Pandora's Box fell open and her scattered words did fall
upon the woman's parchment, upon the woman's call.
Words that were just hidden, somewhere deep below,
now come to the surface, never knowing where they'll flow.
To each word she gives a meaning for each line,
some make up the rythmn, some make up her ryhmes
never being forceful, never being blind.
She continues to move onward, without an outer sign.
Surprised she is and wonders, how long this spell will last
for someday soon she knows, the box will be soon clasped;
and her words trapped once more, until the day it happens
that Pandora's Box falls and her scattered words are ashes.
For now she doesn't question, just sits back and rides the tide
that flows up to the surface, upon the noon day sky.
Forever will she write them, forever will she say
I wrote the words that fell, from Pandora's Box that day.