Illusions Of A Soul

This Woman, This Warrior

What strange creature is this?

Clad in silks and bearing a sword,

Delicate limbs hiding warriors strength,

Maidenly smile masks a killers alert poise.

Soft eyes full of wonder and unspoken promise,

Turn to coldest steel in a moment of anger,

Always watchful, waiting for trouble revealed,

Bright intelligence shrouded by demure silken lashes.

Sweet form of gentle womanhood,

Lulls the unwary to a false sense of power,

Mistaking the nature of this fragile warrior,

Believing her less than their death incarnate.

Pure is the heart of this woman warrior,

Servant of light and bringer of death,

Feared by those with wisdom to gaze beneath the surface,

And see there the power that burns at her core.

Evil discounts her on brief speculation,

So delicate a creature, no threat it believes,

 Blinded by a soft, unimposing exterior,

The lesson learned only as death claims it's own.

This woman, this warrior; a foe to be feared,

Strength of heart and surety of purpose weapons to rend even the greatest of evils,

Gentle child, with a laugh like forever,

Nature's beauty a shield for the truth still hidden,

So kind to those who need her aid,

Gentle healer and bringer of joy,

Unafraid of the dark that tempts other's souls,

Armoured in the light of loves pure radiance.

Moving amongst those blind to her secret depths,

Dearest friends alone know the truth of her being,

Others believe what she wants them to see,

Lady of grace and courtly manners.

Welcomed by those who admire her beauty,

Quiet strength and intelligent mind impress all who know her,

Favourite among kings, Lords of power and birth,

Friend of angels a soldiers alike.

Born for a purpose, this woman child,

Bright shines the warriors soul within,

Illuminating her face with peaceful serenity,

Untroubled by the worries of those all around.

This lady of court moves as a noble born,

Regal is her outward nature, never at a loss wherever she is,

Dining with kings or starving with peasants,

Both her home at deepest heart's core.

Light are her steps as she dances with lords,

Lighter still as she moves amid the battling foe,

Pure is her voice as she sings to the harp,

Sure is her blade as blood writes its tune.

The battle is done, evil vanquished once more,

Again the lady dons silks and shining gems,

Sword and dagger never out of reach,

Moving once more as child of the court.

Knowing herself and all that she is,

Warrior and Woman with no true division,

Child of the hunt, and daughter of delight,

The heart of a female encased in an armour of light.