She is fire. She is gold.
She is the stories left untold.
She is lightning striking wood,
The chaos in chaotic good.

She is the sore, red raw of slaps,
The echo of thunderstorm claps,
The blast of air on winter's days,
The salt-crazed fury of ocean sprays,

The pulsing radiance of suns,
The heated smoke from fired guns,
The steamy sweat from summer ***,
The magic of a witch's hex,

The sweet and sour tears of sadness -
Beautiful madness