Mystic Soul

In the heart of the woods, where whispers roam,
There dwells a woman, not like those known.
Eccentric, she wanders, in solitude's embrace,
Her spirit untamed, her wisdom a grace.

In shimmering twilight, her sanctuary lies,
Where moonbeams dance 'neath starlit skies.
She speaks to the trees, and the rivers reply,
For nature's language is her lullaby.

With eyes that hold secrets of ages untold,
She wanders the paths where mysteries unfold.
In whispers of wind and the rustle of leaves,
She finds anguish in what the world believes.

And society shuns her, deems her strange,
For her ways are beyond their narrow range.
They cannot fathom her mystical sight,
Or grasp the depths of her inner light.

Yet, in her solitude, she finds her peace,
Where judgment and scorn cannot reach.
For she knows the truth that lies within,
And in her wisdom, she finds kin.

So, let her roam in her enchanted domain,
Where the mundane world holds no restrain.
For she is the keeper of secrets untold,
A mystic soul, forever bold.