Becoming Her

They say a picture speaks a thousand words.

At first sight she appears to be a shadow, a no-thing. But as I gaze further at her formless form, I notice the underlying layers. Layers that aren’t piled one on top of the other, but layers that are interspersed in the many hues of her enigma.

She stands with a shawl draped around her form, her dark hair flowing to her knees. She appears to be looking…away? Maybe yearning…wanting…but I can only guess.

The flames flicker around her, never getting too close. She remains shrouded in blackness as it dances around her, occasionally toying, almost playing with the flames.

In this blackness she dances; her eyes sing of capriciousness, one that I just notice. Her lips are bent, half curved into a…smile? I can only guess.

Her face lightens by the light she carries at her navel. Her bejeweled hair twinkles, gushing songs of an invitation as it cascades to her knees.

I can see a warmth… a redness developing in her cheeks. Is that a …blush? She opens her shawl just a bit. Not too much to reveal, but just enough to illuminate. She offers her illumination, smiling shyly, welcoming her stranger into her being.

Yet, she remains shrouded, never showing enough to reveal but enough to glimpse.

I stare at her form, hoping to discover more. But I am struck by disappointment. I manage to catch a mere glimpse of her as her smile changes, taking another form. It appears to be eerily…knowing?

I can only guess.

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