Renaissance Woman

A renaissance woman Bathed in dust and light Of many moods Sometimes wild, often stormy But never less then majestic Her domestication A mark of shame Had almost erased her instincts But sometimes nets are superfluous She slipped through the holes Putting up the great façade of a camouflage artist But apart from the smoke and mirrors Everything comes in multiples with a million variations Like the glorious chaos of freak accidents The overloading of the senses leaves her edges exposed In this vulnerable seascape the sharks are circling Entwining into the self indulgence of dreams Like grey ghost awaiting resurrection She is a moral fable storytellers invented But to the others she is an oracle of falsehood She leaves their engines stalled Because they speak different dialects To translate her body language would offend the spirits But I am fluent to the truth within her fiction I will walk down her cobbled street in eye popping darkness Down the spiral staircase of her mind And breathe her in like a yoga master Having the sublime vision of catching the sun While eternally beholding the stars.