Warrior goddess, wrapped in blue,
she kneels on the mirror pond, frozen after a great snow storm.
The crone's mask of wisdom, age and ferocity sits stoic,
wilting in a winter sun, on top of her chiseled facade.
She is tired from so much running, eluding and chasing.
The violence of the hunt has worn her down,
to her knees, where with talon-sharp fingers she
gazes. Reaching in, she seeks to free the
beautiful maiden, whose flowing locks of golden strands now float below the icy visage.
It is time - she desperately seeks freedom.
The full alignment of her whole Self.
(For you, RK...)
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