The Pen and The Wind

The writings and musings of a windswept soul.
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There was a perfect stillness in the air,
The air was hot, and solid, 
Despite the faint breeze, it did not move,
The water, painted with the faintest ripples,
Caused by the near liquid fish that churned it,
Was solid and non moving.
And though birds chirped,
Though the insects carried their buisness out,
All around there was that perfect stillness,
Like the last patch of unmoving water,
Beset on all sides by incoming ripples.

It was in that perfect stillness that she appeared,
She was incredibly beautiful, in her ordinariness,
She looked human, but was beyond that,
She moved, but did not cause ripples,
And stood in front of this scene of stillness, 
And she began to reflect,
The a clear pool of unmoving water,
Given form.  

Though I did but glance in her only a second, 
I saw ever aspect of my being reflected in her,
And was so enraptured by her inhuman grace,
That I thought I must know her,
But when I even considered to draw near,
The ripple of me passed through,
And before I could react,
The image of her was gone,
The girl in the stillness,
The impossible human made of still waters,

  1. penandwind posted this