I met her in the woods one day.She surfaced like a pain and an error,combined into co-planar serenity.She sat their,coiled like an old Banyan trunk and her hair framed her face like the aerial roots.The space between her bosom was a hollow light year's thirst and she turned around again and again,trying to grasp the history of the universe amidst the little circumcised space between her hairline and toenails.She was solace,she resembled eternity - yet,the wind shook her like the heart of a young sage on the path to the quest for truth.
I think I watched her look up then.She whispered something to the ears of the shallow evening and the drooping flowers.I was about to ask her of her whereabouts when she vanished in
mid-air."What do you want?What else do you want now?",I asked helplessly.And she swirled across the breeze like a symphony
that resembled the sound of broken bells before turning the wheels that curtailed the length of my shadow,and off I went like a tattered kite.
Painting : Saint Briac by Emile Bernard
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