Without time

With no more shield than the shadow of an oak
Whose branches accompany her waiting,
With exhausted steps given at the border
Wanting to reach heaven to see it noble

And having to be thankful for the days
Just like the nights now of former times
That conveyed the vision of motion
To continue building the arduous ways

For which she could get to understand
From only one inextricable point
The entire unending wingspread

From that reasonable question
Until the fair and pleasant silence
Toward which she will direct her aspiration.