She is dark in appearance. Her clothes torn and tattered. She holds her heart in her hand, clutching it close to her person.
But she is very much alive
She searches and wanders. She cannot sit still. She is curious, adventurous and passionate.
Yet, she is tired
Time and time again she’s spread her wings, preserved by who knows what. Radiant and white. They seem to glow in the dark woods where she resides.
One day the wind will take her
Her legs are green with mossy growth. Her skin has turned to bark. Every year she grows taller and every year she goes stronger.
Her passion will consume her grief.
I must confess I have taken a liking to her. I feel as though we can relate for I too grow life from my body. I too cultivate passion in my heart. I too house a cyclone of imagination in my mind.
And yet, as my body grows, my wings don’t.
But the wind will take her soon.
Someday, the wind will come for her it’s true. And on that day I will find a way to fly away too.
Wherever this beautiful creature lands
Whether it be in the snowy mountains or Bermuda sands
Islands formed new with fiery brand
I will be there to take her hand
And maybe her passion can awaken mine