I am a lioness
Pure gold slyness,
not dust: solid.
Not melting in mold.
Rising from fire;
Boiling, churning, rising, expanding
For me,
I climb ever higher,
Touching the night sky: bursting through.
No dust to disintegrate,
I integrate into myself
Fine, pure, solid.
Left alone, to my own,
Finding
Finding
Out of design
No filter, no hesitation.
