meandering karma

[This marks the end of the folio.  Thanks for sticking about and reading through it.  The following is just something I wrote.  Just thought it would be nifty to include it.  ]

Conceived in the salty white sands of Quezon
South of Okinawa, womb to the tomb, baby
A tourist in your own country, Miss Citizen of the World
Mala beads of sandalwood and bone, hammering Zen Buddhist mantras
What would your straight-faced Catholic ancestors say?
Not much, in terms of words; sucks to be dead
Better to be alive, albeit finitely content with one's self.

Little girl touting metal plate, still wants to grow up.
Grow up into a bioengineer, likes micro-bacteria more than she likes people.
Hard to love something you can't hold.
It's way to early to be locked inside yourself. Save it for adolescence.

Enter seasoned veteran of life, exit to the left.
It's the constipated emotions that restricts ya.
Marching backwards into the sea.
Analyzing yourself will only leave you bitter, dear.

Little girl touting metal plate, still wants to grow up.
Knowing how far the goal is, when she's standing right beside it.
Reluctant to go forward, one step forward two steps back.
So much to leave, but that doesn't make it right.
Meandering body, but your soul still sticks. It's karma, you know.