My girl is made from fire and stardust.
She feels like a child of the wind and the rain,
Her wrath—an unprecedented hurricane.
But love her, speak sweet words to her,
And she is the cool breeze on an extra hot day,
The reason you feel like it might be bearable to go out and play.
She’s a light spring shower,
Covering the earth with blooms,
Bringing it all back to life.

Oh, but don’t you dare stand in her way—
She is divine feminine rage.
The storms before—I swallowed them whole,
And now I’m beginning to see
That maybe all of that was to make sure
She had an unshakable roar.
And oh, is it beautiful to see
That no one will stand in her way.

Her words spill like lava,
As steadfast as a bull,
Yet her heart is still so full.
Sweeter than honey—
Until you challenge her storm,
Until you test her form.

And if you do, just know—
I’ll pray
For you
To make it out alive.
Because you see, my girl is made of stardust and fire—
Two untamable things,
Two forces together, unchained,
Burning, rising—
Unshaken, unbound,
Stretching far above and below the ground.

So think twice before you stand at her door,
If you wish  to endure the unfazed wrath
Of all the women who came before.
She is the storm, the flame, the roar—
A force the world will soon learn
Can never be ignored.