Soft moss and plentiful mud wraps through and between her long, gentle fingers. Her back, pressed upon a rough, callused pine, lay crooked and natural, unaltered by the world of industry and civilization. Within the girl’s matted hair are birdies tweeting and calling to her in quick, melodic fractals of sound. The chirps bounce around the foliage, lush and green, and topple through the whispering air into the brook, babbling near by. Pinpoint sunshine drifts through the canopy, dappling her fur as she scampers to her deep-down home. And there, in darkness, she rests.
The sunshine comforts her and makes her grow, the trickling rain provides her life and takes her sorrow. Her hair falls in long, spindly vines, thorns and serrated foliage, leaving her neck scratched and irritated. About her is an air of sweet pollen, sent to follow her from the heavens. Personality in layers and layers of different colors; many find her interesting and study her closely when she is nearby. The dew sticks to her skin and her lips, making her dazzle in the morning sun. She shines.
Blue and white marble patched with sunlight as she takes flight, effortlessly, from the tiny trees. Soft and sleek, she shimmers with mystery, a dark pinprick above the heavens. With outstretched wings she drifts and circles, parting the clouds. Though simple-minded, the girl survives on her own, left at a small age by those now forgotten. She is from humble beginnings, but see how she flies with grace and beauty like none other!
Though put in darkness, unnoticed and still, she shines through with powerful, blazing brightness in tiny points across deep blue. She provides lullabies, rolling and deep toned as the sea, soothing whispers from slumbering lips, and quiet to the overworked minds of mortals. She slumbers too, yet with ears open and listening, for the crying of an infant or the tossing and turning of the anxious parent. She gently shushes, and all is still.
She is the rustling of rats in a quiet alleyway. She is the thousands of lights seen from the bridge across the lapping waves. Her stony features do not show the rumbling motion and noise inside her soul. Flashing and whirling, colors spin inside her. Yet they are locked in a cement fortress, with tall structures and claustrophobic streets, wanting dearly to be set free. She feels desolate and alone, abandoned by the beautiful nature on the other side.