Billowing clouds gather near the mountains
The wind blows at the long dead cactus flowers.
A distant wind chime is heard far away.

She sits at the edge of a cliff,
Looking across the barren wasteland.
She was pondering life,
As she had done centuries before.

The weather being hot,
No one dares venture out.
She is the immortal.
She does not feel.

She is beyond all beauty;
The most beautiful do not compare.
But she does not care.
She jumps from her perch,

To float to the ground,
in the pouring rain.
Pillowed by the fall,
She screams to the heavens,

"Why me?
What did I do?
Don't leave me to suffer in this wasteland!"
She looks to the sky and cries like the rain.