New Birth

What trust may I find in a breeze's embrace,
Whispering quiet flames' grace,
Yearnings' chase,
Clad in morrow's garb, yesterday's disgrace.
Yearning to become, yet tethered to fate's spin,
Dreaming of brighter hues, yet undefined therein,
This flesh, once a shrine, now feels worn and thin,
I venture where essence begins.
That enduring self, untouched by worldly din,
Each dawn renews a celestial grin,
Shedding this mortal skin becomes as wind,
Seeking naught but existence, pure and akin.
Recollection fades; where have I been,
Inwardly, as the wind, I begin again,
To be, without, or within,
As the Spirit, the eternal spin.