Amidst all that was ordinary and common,
She lied there with her unusual imagination.
Flipping pages as her eyes glow;
Smiling like a toddler,
Dancing like a fountain,
Flying like a bird,
Floating like a leaf;
There she was,
breathing and living,
in solitude and sanctuary;
There, in all contentment,
There, Until they found her,
Made her undone.
And she Rose,
soared high, high above mountains,
brighter than the first light on the outside,
but inside, somehow darker than the darkest night.