She was swift, swift with a motive. Motive to move mountains she only dreams of. Tough yet brittle like the edge of a canyon so tired of holding on to the edge. Just like that you can watch her ripple beneath the earth and come back as the dirt she will bury herself in only to be swept away by the wind she becomes. Entangled and Confucius of her own passions. Like the wind she howls. She pushes scrapes and hides only in the nooks she knows that are love. Gentle yet too fierce to tell her winds pick up the gravel and push her to the limits other do not comprehend like the depths of a cave she is dark. There is a fire inside the wind follows yet cannot reach because she has yet to reach it herself. A fire so wild, not to be tamed for the fire is who she has become. Not for disaster but a warmth to evaporate her beliefs into those she moves. A tsunami of love mistaken for aggression she is the wave you will ride, drown, and fall in before you understand the depths of her being.
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