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