Whom much is given
Moonlight dances upon her peace. Her church. She offers up her body in motion. Blessed offerings of a shimmering shower of an anointed potion. For all that wish to lead their moments of with faith and never ending. Without cease. Redolence hints of lavender from the embodiment of her grace. Her face scintillating. Bountiful remains of shimmer weep off of her soul. Truths and lies, each a part as if they were stitched with the lives that she herself unfolds, as if sprung from a flowers bed. A state of discernment that fills the air with a thickness, a weight, an echoing proverbial billowing light. A warmth that wraps you in an embrace that once was built for only lovers. Feet moving at the berm, relenting, allowing the take over, Encapsulation and sweeping beyond. A dance of the ages? Conveying, interpreting the message for the awakened. Her gilded life in which she was born yet fought to keep. Herself, a queen of her own cloud. A cloud that didn't cover but uplifte...