Woman I am not the harbinger of nubile youth, nor fertile womb - But the Heralder of woman's wisdom; ripened, succulent The bearer of truths and humor devilish wit, angelic grace honed in the chill Of icy-black aloneness tempered through the flames Of lustful graspings at life's thread... A stately Muse, few have beheld my innate beauty, my aural touch Healer of tattered souls, I, and Lover of the lonely. So many cannot see, their view clouded, not by tears nor passion's haze; Fogged by lack of mystery, they disdain without thought or care one with tender soul, and sharpened mind I shall find my Love, labrynthine and wond'rous visions urge me, union of hearts melding of two so precious, more dear because we are unseen, unheard: sensed, and feeling the other's need we shall wander, tho' not aimlessly Into our private ocean of enlightened desire... �K.E.Cline, 07/1995 |