She had many faces,
but she was not two-faced,
but rather described as a storm,
With opulent intensities,
Transfigured by the elements of life’s
Quiet mellifluous lilt by
Which it languidly swayed all souls,
She did not sway though,
Rather she was uncompromising in
Her emotional wave length,
She could drizzle gently,
Or cascade exuberantly with her susceptibility,
She had no riveted temperament,
She was a storm in all rhapsodic unpredictability
And inexorable power of the ineffable unknown,
She was the incorporeal roar of thunder and
The incandescent luminescence of lightning,
She had embodied the storm she had
Fought desultory for a decade,
They were coalesce until it had formed
A chrysalis amorphous of raw beauty,
She had many faces,
But no she was not two-faced,
She was the storm that had shaped her.