Her speed and energy are strong and real and good.
Her tenderness and tender core are strong and real and good
and of course protected.
Occasionally forgotten, sometimes a layer of dust,
but the pulse never stops.
It sings its rhythm, it cries its rhythm, it shouts,
it screams, it groans, whispers, hums.
It never stops.
Does it tremble as a leaf? Does it flutter as a humming bird wing? Does it glow as a sunrise
the circles the pole?
Imagine the gift of her deep beauty causes another
to vibrate with the shared mystery, the fear
of the hidden and the unknown, with the
power of the pulse electric.