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Pirouetting upwards upwards in swirls within her boundless bosom
The dusky, silent ocean swells from the depths of her serene form
Bursting at her surface to be suddenly taken by a storm
As the roaring winds entangle in her tresses long
Causing zillions of drops in millions of waves. ..
Each an avatar of her majestic self.
Like a Goddess she laughs through each glistening drop
To see herself thus.
At once the drop, and the frivolous wave, at once the eternal ocean bed
Who dances and who rests
Who entangles and who entangled
Who the lover and who beloved
What difference does it make?
If at all a difference there is to be made?