She was written on the wall,
unknown to all but
the one who wrote
her on the wall.
As the rivers flowed,
she unfurls, mysteries
furled in her palms,
rivers will not
stop for man, nor will she
be touched my his hands.
Stones she placed in one’s palm
will not roll onto dry land
She is sweet,
giving souls their pots of gold
she is cold,
handing souls defeat,
but she’s fair, always
obeying what she was told
she is funny, always
giving hairless apes…
what they deserve.
