[Calann]: 135.Poetry.Intricate lies

She, a woman with white wings
born from passion in the tree grove
faces the world with laughter and
black hands stained by coal
--perhaps darker things

As she smiles
her eyes are innocent, like those of a child
but the quill in the grasp
of those frail-boned fingers draw
images from the deepest caverns of the human mind

Look at the ethereal beauty
of that face, a cheek stained with the green of grass
but spitting a toad
whenever she speaks
her charade is lifted, and her eyes glow red

By loving her, you have fallen
as the clouds whiz past in the azure sky
the three constants become entwined
until not a soul can speak without weeping
and the elements fall asleep