Author S. K. Nicholas

She sleeps in fire, hot coals beneath her feet. The rest use their sex, yet she is a mind that will not bend to the limitations of the flesh. Turn away from the dim crowd, and be like the trees. The body fades fast. Drifting further away each day, those eyes that seek you out now won’t be around for long, yet she will always be queen. Intellect. Dreams. Searching for meaning when others search for a means to hide from themselves in the arms of another. It’s all a sham, just a mockery of the wonder of conscious thought. In the blossom of a flower, she skirts madness and intimacy while dancing with the gods. Words from her mouth, the kind that blinds like bombs. Secrets within that sacred chest made visible with careful thought and the desire to do things differently. Any girl can give herself away. Any girl can use her beauty to live a lifestyle void of anything other than the appearance of being ordinary. She is neither, and she is none. The horizon a halo above her head, she gazes at the sea and glimpses poetry. The nuances of natural bliss, of the elation of chemicals as they swirl like stars in distant galaxies. The epiphany of creation in the flick of her wrist. Sown seeds of belief over cheap liquid shared like it was something of merit. Hidden in the snow, she waits for no one. Only moving when the time is right will she break her trance. Reflection of the soul over the reflection of inked skin and push-up bras. Detest image. Praise insight. Beware of false idols, and beware the stained hands that will try their best to drag you down into the raging waters where they drown in the mess of broken self. Freedom of thought untethered like a lover lost in the colours of the midnight sun.