Renaissance Woman
A renaissance woman
Bathed in dust and light
Of many moods
Sometimes wild, often stormy
But never less then majestic
Her domestication
A mark of shame
Had almost erased her instincts
But sometimes nets are superfluous
She slipped through the holes
Putting up the great façade of a camouflage artist
But apart from the smoke and mirrors
Everything comes in multiples with a million variations
Like the glorious chaos of freak accidents
The overloading of the senses leaves her edges exposed
In this vulnerable seascape the sharks are circling
Entwining into the self indulgence of dreams
Like grey ghost awaiting resurrection
She is a moral fable storytellers invented
But to the others she is an oracle of falsehood
She leaves their engines stalled
Because they speak different dialects
To translate her body language would offend the spirits
But I am fluent to the truth within her fiction
I will walk down her cobbled street in eye popping darkness
Down the spiral staircase of her mind
And breathe her in like a yoga master
Having the sublime vision of catching the sun
While eternally beholding the stars.
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