MoonGoddess

Staring at her mirror

With trembling hands

She think of herself as mud

Surrounded by golden sand,

Days are to long

She barely survives

Nights are too short

For her tired eyes

In an art gallery

She wishes to be the girl in a forest

Lost within the trees

Or the snow on Mount Everest

Or a ship sailing the seven seas

Perhaps the daisies in a still motion painting

Perhaps a picture of a warrior in training

But she is neither the girl in a forest

Nor the snow atop Everest

Nor the warrior with a sword in her fist

She is not the ship amidst the sea

She is not the daisies

And she never will be

She is the splash of red on an empty canvas

A beautifully perfect mess

She, indeed, is art

Though nobody understands it

When wind blows through your paintbrush bristles

She is the pattern of water when it ripples

She is abstract

And she shouldn't think of herself

As anything less.