There is love in your body but you can't hold it in,
It pours from your eyes and spills from your skin,
Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks,
And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts


Lena chose to be light that day – buoyant, beneficent, and magnificent in all of her dulcet deliverances, mellifluous benedictions. Her convictions usurped the howling wind, the vacant chill, the corroded, distorted armaments of shattered hearts, of wandering moralities, of a wayfaring group she called family. Determined, resolute, stalwart, her assurance rose upon the plains of her ethereal incandescence, on the divine grace showered postured, poised, prosed along her body, twisting and turning in the vacant threads of earth and sky. A bloom, a blossom, before the waking strands of spring nestled its warmth, she drove onward with the indulgence of restlessness, angelic defiance, the siege of prevailing goodness, the arch of alluring cordiality. Finery, laid waste in the dim, listless winter, reclaimed its former pedestal as she waltzed in petal soft motions, beguiling sin, tempting serenity, harkening to the brooding earth that she too could heal, mend, slide and slip away from the melancholy toils of bitter, rancorous glades. Taffeta wings, seraphic grandeur, the abandoned entity of ardor, raised her soul to the heavens and prospered it to ring aloft the satin chords of the fields, into the arms of virtue. Refusing to drown in the murky, muddied depths of calamity, of sorrow, of misery, she sang amongst hostile corridors, not stolen, not absconded, by the whims and fantasies of licentious greed. Elegant movements would not be wasted by the furtive, specious savagery, callous cruelty, would not be mauled by bestial delusion – affable, fae, and fairy polished by the mercies of tranquility, by the aspirations of dreamers. She knew anarchy, calamity, and villainy, had drenched her frame in its cool embrace, but always, in the end, strayed from any further grasp, caress.

She danced in the eaves of the heavenly fields, postured her finesse in the grooves of eloquence, elegance, twisting and turning along the parlors of halos, honeyed and candied. And when she caught the florets of another, the glimpse, the presence of an individual, strange, unknown and foreign, she swiveled her pirouette into a laced crown, brushing the strokes of her motions towards the unrecognized. She wouldn’t balk, wouldn’t waver, upon her quest for nothing, her odyssey for absolution, her crusade for glory. Radiance, reverie, prevailed; she advanced with little qualm, warm eyes scouring the horizon for the other creature, enlightening further when she caught the cerise streaks of life bolstered against the sun. As she grew ever closer, she studied the youth further, the glow of childhood, the regal, lost look upon her features, shifted into another world. For an instant, Lena didn’t want to break her away from whatever realm she had chosen, from the palace gates she’d scoured, from the long tapestries she admired. Yet, she still advanced, slow, quiet, hushed in the fine, subtle, airy shifts of her body, gestured a lingering nod towards the equine - ah, then a smile, long since withering, emanated across her lips, a burst of song melodically mingling with her throat, her voice, into the juncture of silence. ”Hello!”