- Stevan Brasel (1976- )
She wields heaven like so much clay at the tips of her fingers
to view her resting is to behold the face of God
yet to behold her angered, is to view the first of the Fallen
She is the pinnacle of juxtaposition,
a voice as melodious as an angel
a form as seductive as a demon
In her eyes is the reflection of tomorrow, of hope
In her mouth are the echoes of yesterday, of despair
In her touch is ecstasy,
In her absence, agony
One would follow wherever she leads,
if only one could fly
Yet to understand her is to comprehend destiny
to touch her is to feel the universe
easy to happen, hard to see to its completion
one can follow wherever she leads
if only one can fly.
© 1997 Stevan Brasel.
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