https://visionarysea.com/#/persephone-meg/
. . .
The fire in her,
incessant,
unquenchable
the thirst for voyages never concludes
our lives upon radiant and parallel bands
and ceaselessly, folding into creases
she is saturated in purple
she is imbued in white
there are florets in her mind
there are mandalas in her flight
pirouetting in the movements of awakening
the nature of this earthly blood
she dances in the rivers
she is naked in the mire
I am sure I’ve seen her before
in some other worldly trial
she liquesces into her flood
unbound from what she shuns
what comes to her is magic
and what comes from her is love
. . .