The Calm and the Storm

She is everything the coursing water is–soft, yet sharp, strong and gentle, calm and rushing all at once.

She closes her eyes to the song that plays and has faith in herself alone.

You could call her the calm before the storm and the eye of the hurricane.

She overwhelms you with the same melody that you find in the forest between the small nettles and berries that grow.

She is at the fullest stage, mother moon.

She is powerful; however, she can paint with all the colors of the wind.

If she is water– calm, running, collected.

Then this one is fire.

This one is a renegade, with her father’s gypsy soul and mother’s exhausted hands.

She has enough flair to burn you with her sharp tongue and quick wit.

This one is the storm.

This one was born by the deep waters, her body and soul protected by piercing thorns.

This one lets her ideas flow and will never back down.

Perhaps this one will never learn.  

This one is just beginning, the maiden.

This one is weak; however, she can scorch the forest with one look.

Though the Mother and Maiden are very different, they both share copper, sun-kissed skin.

They both share the same waterfalls and blazes.

The Mother and Maiden both are very different and unmistakably the same.

The calm and the storm.