The Goddess of Self has skin made from silk,
woven from threads placed by others.
Her ancient silver scars shine through the thin,
amorphous shift of words that she wears as a garment.
She sings when she speaks,
and her presence is like the sound of fallen snow.
She walks barefoot on the earth – always touching, feeling, listening.
Stars sparkle in her flowing cobwebbed hair,
carefully spun from the aether of experience
by tiny white spiders.
She lives at the edge of dream and reality.
While time changes her with each step she makes,
she is never the same.
When you gaze into her luminous eyes,
you will see your own reflection.