I figure she fell from heaven.

I imagine her hair

as it drifts down the staircase

of religion and doubt. It dances

like the promise of forever

and her body floats as she reaches

us.

But her hands are too far to touch,

laying at her side like

a pendulum in the sand.

But instead of making endless scribbles,

she carves forever.

She inscribes a message of what’s to be,

while dancing in the breath of what was yesterday.

And as she battles the tug of today,

she feels the struggle of the World.

She lives in a place of golden sidewalks

and silver streets,

magical beings and power.

She bathes in a sea of tears,

and listens to the tune of love

and the harmony of loss.

That sky girl, that star in a night of dark.

She leads the way through the blackness,

disguised as a shining orb in the night sky.

She is faith,

she is love,

but most of all, she is a fall from grace.