She is the blade that which you wield;
The blockade, the fight, the unbreakable shield.
She is the tool that will fix the grail,
The wrench, the hammer, the humble nail.
It’s in her blood you wrote her name;
The beginning, the now, and then the end.
Her bones will make our lonely coffins,
The doors, the walls, the smallest columns.
She is the only ‘god’ that speaks back;
The whispers, the answers, she’s the hack.
She is the build up in your chest;
The clots, the mass, the pent up stress.
It’s through her eyes we see all color;
The flowers, the mountains, the glorious wonders.
Her mind is the reality we all question;
All the pain, the smiles, the inquisition.
She is the rain you feel on your skin;
The savior, the water, the life you live.
It is within her arms you feel true warmth;
The illusion, the heat, she is our storm.
So why do you fight the inhuman,
Why spill her love?
Why choose the cold, homeless ruin?
Why be so rough?
I ask you now as she takes your hand,
Why do you watch and play these games?
Why do you fight against her and watch her fade,
Do you not see it’s within her we are made?
She is the light and the darkness inside;
She is your heart,
But you are her pride.