A countenance issuing from the interdependent mass unending, from particles, beings, planes, and evolutions untold. A womanly visage emerging from the endless conjoined fertility of motion and inertia, light and dark. A face attesting to the unblemished character of things emergent, to a splendrous dynamism unclouded.
Your womanly body—your sleek lips, legs, and arms—invite womanliness, admitting the willing to an unceasing flowering. You invite attention to our own sleek lips, legs, and arms. But you also invite us to see woman bound to man, time bound to space, and something wide and shimmering beyond our myopia.
So many fear queens and their might. Others proceed into a flawless bosom ancient and ever-active, into the shapely curves of unobscured everything.
A queen here. A queen.
Meditation on a Queen
