She bobs down on a winter night,
Concealed from all,
Her body, pure, her skin, untarnished,
Almost impeccable,
With a glittering pattern, never seen, a design never created,
Yet simple.
She is the first to appear on this cold windy night,
Lonely without allies,
Falling endlessly bordered in black,
Gloomily shivering,
Approaching a destination, an unknown goal,
Uncertain disaster.
Her life is minute, her existence meaningless, her body unknown,
Acknowledged by none,
Individually she has the strength to do nothing,
Fragile,
Trapped in the circle of life unable to act,
Idle.
For an eternity she lives,
Enjoyable,
She dances in the air,
Fascinating,
As she approaches, her mournful fate becomes clear,
Yet she continues to dance.
It is time she embraces the Earth,
She is crippled,
Her body is stormed, contaminated in the dirt,
Impure,
Her body is overcome and can’t breathe,
Can’t live.
The searing pain is excruciating,
Unbearable even,
But she does not give in, she does not cry,
Silence,
Momentarily her angelic body is changed,
Askew, grotesque.
From the heavens, they come to join her,
But she is gone,
Arriving in the millions they come,
But they are too late,
If only they had come sooner,
She wouldn’t have had to be isolated,
She wouldn’t have had to cry,
She wouldn’t have had to die.