Runa

In some faraway land,
In another realm,
They tell her tale, they
Sing songs in reverence
To her, they marvel at how
She rises from the river,
Shimmering silver on a
Moonlit night, look into
Her eyes, they say, see,
They shine with the
Fire of the stars, her hair falls
Over her shoulders like water
Rippling over stone, speak to her
Of her beauty, and she answers with
A laugh, oh that sound, that carries
Over the cold, damp breeze, leaving
In its wake, a hint of ancient mysteries
That ripen with time like the wine of gods,
There are more powerful things in
The world, she tells them, more powerful
Than beauty that hungry eyes seek,
It is when a heart heavy with stories
Breaks on the altar of time, and from
Its fragments, a sword is forged in the
Sweltering heat of self transformation,
When the girl realises, she was a goddess
Fallen asleep, sword in hand, she marches
To conquer the world, and they understand,
She is a force of nature, like a river,
She will flow, an answer to the call
Of her heart's ardent desires;
In their legends, they speak of a girl,
Magic of the moon and the power of
The river flowing in her being,
Her destiny that of a traveller,
Whose destination is the golden horizon
Where she becomes the sea,
And takes the sun into her embrace.
©thebhavnasaxena