Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shruti Atri Jan 2016
She takes a breath;
A big one--
The kind that lifts her chest
Reaches her stomach.

She holds herself,
Steady little birdy,
5, 6, 7, 8...
Then unleashes
All of her raw wild grace;
As they sit in awe
Of the most beautiful animal
She brings before them.

She embodies the maelstroms,
The typhoons, the hurricanes,
That have destroyed so many,
As she devastates her audience
In subliminal bliss.
She is purely a creature of light;
A force of nature, so absolute,
So fragile;
She could break herself,
Have the world shatter
In but a flex...

The melody
Of her expression will run out soon.
As the last few bars thunder down,
She recedes;
Her energy smashed
And scattered
With those who saw her
When she was in her space,
Where they could not touch her
Or her spirit.
They were helpless in the face
Of her fire--
So hot, so bright,
It blazed in the brilliance
Of a thousand suns,
Before the last flame of the candle
Lost it's light...
Not with a bang, but a whimper

A coldness takes hold,
She realizes she has to come back
To their world.
She will miss
Her own little dimension
Where she is Queen;
Her space where she can fly,
Where she can move mountains,
And reign over thunderstorms...

The curtains start to draw
As she prepares to leave the stage,
Taking hold of the memories made
Only to be forgotten and remembered;
Thinking of her time in the sun,
She takes a last breath
And bows out.
Her grace, now a dim memory
Forgotten, only to be remembered
In these eternal phrases,
*When you read them.

— The End —