She is not the
violent of her types,
But her violence is
a beauty,
To me
and many other
eyes.
She has her heart
spilled over the
shores,
She is a goddess,
she is a part of
the lores.
When she shines her
gaze
up towards the
heavens,
Stars swell in her
lushness,
their hearts she so
leavens.
You can see her
smiling,
with her earthen
vest so vast.
Time runs as if
anew,
an era lost in her
lust.
When she was young,
there was coy in
her trance.
She ran down along
mountains,
there was joy in
her stance.
Now they seek to
bind her
with iron, that her
element can erode
And reap business
from her bosom.
Her chest too
smitten to goad.
Many have kept
their quiet,
But some have drawn
their words.
Call it a war, and
the tunes are ready,
Unleashing her
wrath, the river will again breathe steady.
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