She was the one for whom worlds were broken
One for which volcanoes long since slumbered suddenly had awoken
Rain would fall and rain would flood to prove she walked on water
Men falling for her with widened eyes as if lambs to the slaughter

And she would whisper and tornado and tempest would answer in castrophany
Kingdom, king, prophet, poet, in her midst, crumbling to distant memory
Will I stand behind, beside? Better still, will I stand at all?
For what chance does a single heart stand against one for whom worlds fall?