From deep in the mountains,
from the star crossed summer plains,
she came, he sensed her, he saw the bright vision
of her flowing hair, her dancer's body, lean, lithe
and youthful in sweet power and silent grace,
she was the mystery, who did she call
and where? which of the phases of his silver heart?
part of her was danger, part of her was cool, wise and holy,
but beyond, deeper, she watched, she circled,
she was the sorceress, her words were like claws
raking furrows in the world of the safe and known,
she sought him out, the knight errant, the poet, the dreamer,
her eyes, her eyes, mesmerizing, yet mesmerized,
he was fearful yet exhilarated, truly he lived
for strange battle and sweet adventure, for all the guises
of Circe the wild sorceress, the temptress, the tempest
foaming the waters of his heart, she was driven, possessed,
strange, mad, immortal and blazing, electric, magnificent
in rapture, In great, profound and bursting wreaths of light,
we danced, we danced, we danced, the world spun,
the axis rattled, strange suns screamed,
and the shadows blazed...
--NorthPoet, from VISION RIDER...