RAMBLINGS OF THE MAD SP*C

Oh beautiful child,

Descendant of the lost world,

The sun had molded you from its palms until you were bronze,

The brilliance left upon your skin is a gift and reminder of whom you serve.

*

You hair is dark brown, almost black,

In marriage with the night sky,

With waves that cascade past your ears

As if the moon is pulling them in

Just like the ocean waters.

*

Or perhaps you have curls,

Bountiful and abundant,

Coiled with locked energy.

Try as they might to reach out and defy gravity,

They can never leave too far from its roots,

Never leaving too far from the reservoir of power that is your body.

*

Your face is dignified,

High raised cheekbones,

With a domineering brow

Ever tilted toward the heavens

As you ponder of Gods and their purpose for giving you this Life..