THE DAUGHTER

 

She stands in the shadow

In the corner

In the predawn darkness

A slight white aura surrounds her

Illuminating her outline

I know

Somehow

She is the daughter

The daughter of light

The daughter of darkness

The daughter of secrecy

The daughter of mystery

She moves ever so slightly

As I fully enter the room

 

We stand listening to the silent exchange

To say we were speaking is not correct

To say we were not speaking is not correct

A myriad of emotion

A myriad of sensual sensation

Swims around us

In the silence

In the predawn darkness

Her touch echoes through the years

Through several generations

Over mountains

Across seas

Before a sudden stillness

In the silence

 

She is speaking

The words land lightly

Shards of crystal landing lightly on granite

In the silence

In the dark

Her words are not information

They are a proclamation

In a still moment

Not owned by Time

“I am The Daughter.”

She moves ever so slightly

Her touch echoes through the years

A myriad of emotion

A myriad of sensual sensation

 

Swims all around us

In the one quiet moment

 

Not owned by Time