I saw her first in shadow.
She was eager for the chalice.
She was beautiful.
If I saw her in the flesh and thought not,
I'd be wrong.
Her beauty was in yearning.
She sought.
She was moved by an idea.
I knew that she was young,
In the only way that mattered.
It was not a stroke of skyfire.
She wasn't wont to make a mark.
She was driven from within.
The chips fall where they may,
And I fell toward her.
What she sought was all that is.
She reflected in the chalice.
She sought to love herself.
My thought was not of give and take,
But only to be near her.
I saw her as she was.
She was worthy of it all.
She was still.
Though all the stirring of the heavens
Resided there in her.