on Her

Her hair falls like heavy smoke-
But when the wind blows through her, it flies
mysteriously, like a stream that passes through the
forest night.

Her eyes are dark and endless wells,
Filled to the brim with a cool, fearful, and awakening
water, reared by the pristine hills of the
Himalayas.

Her hands unfold her untold tales;
Like a mist-enfolded dancer, they are invisible,
yet let their deep vibrations
be felt.

Her skin emits a restless tone
That numbs, and erodes my mind so completely,
as though from a deep and
divine flute.

And now, though i do not see her, feel her, hear her-
She still runs madly through treesin my dream.