L E N A
black clouds are behind me, I now can see ahead

She dreamed in raptures and reveries, abandoning the abhorrent quandaries of villainy for the opulence, the splendor, of convictions and assurances. But, sometimes the ghosts loomed behind her eyes, wafting, waiting wraiths that coasted and glided across halls, specters of the past, things she could never be and creatures she could never save, blinding objects casting an eerie glow upon the shelter of her heart. Forms of the present floated, rims of stolen, disappeared, captured brethren, and her soul would become crushed at the sight of them, alone and forlorn, twisted into the arms of a world she couldn’t reach. What friend was she, awake in the midst and mist of auroras and radiance, when they were riveted and ensnared in traps and deceptions? The notion sickened her, turned her stomach into knots, and she sacrificed slumber for contemplation, for the nuance of sentiments, how to reach, how to liberate. Lips pulled into a thin line, brow furrowed, curled legs unfurled by the banks of spring and light, not deserving of their humble presence. Worry turned so easily into self-loathing, and self-loathing into damnation, and though the idle wares of corruption courted her frame, she drove them away with the finery of absolution, of virtue, of divinity. How does one recover a friend lost to the hills of the desert? How does one release a companion from the binds of oubliettes and prisons, when they too could become entombed in the sepulcher? How do you bring it to a leader whom you do not know? The thoughts refused to rest, tense, uneasy, agitated, because she’d always pledged perseverance and strength through each and every portion of her frame, but couldn’t commit the same for Aurelius? For Mauja? For all the other hearts burdened in prisons, in shells and cells, vessels of the damned, hallowed auras hollowed?

The phantoms of the moonlight trickled across the pathways of her hooves, and she followed them blindly, uniting with the beams of stars and apparitions for a singular piece of understanding, knowledge, capacity to undermine ravaging, destroying clutches. Lissome architecture obeyed the elegance and finesse of nymphs and sylphs, a vicious, conniving waltz that betrayed the grandeur of day, crossing into twilight, nocturnal adventures, where the blessed weren’t always blissful, where the hopeful weren’t always valiant. Limbs pulsed in a bolero swing, pushing, prying, against the corridors of the frozen eaves, fluid, lustrous bounds and bounties conquered by illumination, drifting in the aimless sea of broken daydreams. Regal, noble head caressed the wind and air, gifted with its arching wiles, its simpering artifices, pledging to soft doldrums of assurances and morality. She whispered the silent chords of a lost fay to the brambles of wilderness, allowed them to echo in the harboring, hushed qualms of the present. What can I do? Who will help me?

And amidst this dawning enterprise of gypsies, of wavering, wayfaring souls, her troubled, honeyed eyes found the lonely entity wading by the water, reflecting ferocity, relinquishing brutality, and Lena’s movements ceased. She spent several moments gazing along the horizon, watching, witnessing, the stranger, before advancing towards the foreign essence, elegance and grace, ambitious and aspiring, wishing, hoping, praying that resolution would march into her thoughts, humble her into action, spur and incense the anarchy to diminish so that her friends, companions, and comrades may have peace again. For now, she would be the provision of tranquility, bowing her head against the rivulets of the mountain breeze, immersing serenity when she felt none of it flowing into her veins. A smile enlightened across her lips, and the welcoming generosity of her heart bloomed for a tender, compassionate moment, for this femme too deserved sanguine sentiments, not the tumultuous, morose and melancholy shards of her vexed mind. Her vocals ensnared the grasp of beneficence and melody, harmonious, dulcet, the soft croon of an arduous fairy. “Greetings - I'm Lena. Who are you?” Another query, unspoken, sparked across her soul, and subsequently, just as quickly, dissipated. What do you seek in this realm – repose or violence? Because I can see the chaos in your eyes and the quiet in your limbs.