She sinks for no one.

She is fire and love and a caressing sweet breath of wind,

Playfully mussing your hair.

 

Love is her habit, not for gain,

But because it flows.

 

When the darkness came to call,

So brilliant was her light,

And so much her habitude,

That it did not darken her heart,

But provided a place for becoming,

Like a butterfly’s cocoon.