She Was Ital

.

She was a magician and she was her white dove,

she was the hand of steel and she the velvet glove,

she was ammunition and she was the canon,

she was the faithful seal and she was the danaann,

she was from the deep gorge, she yearned for the high cliff,

she took upon herself to make self of her ‘if’,

she was the mighty forge, she the godly smithy,

and of her loving delph she made burning pythy,

she was of great beauty, she, beautiful greatness,

she was the proud peafowl, she was the graceful swan,

she honored her duty, she was left with her dress,

moonlighted, broken howl; together they were one.

.


Imagine a meeting that shall never happen…

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