The City of Rama

She is mesmerizing, a dazzling landscape that breathes slowly with the passage of time in a rhythm that moves mountains. She is a force that shapes the earth: a river to carve canyons, a gust of wind to crown the ocean as the shore bows to it. Her eyes command the trees to grow. Her hand directs each passing storm. I want to believe that this is a woman who can make the world a perfect place.

I long to hear her voice, to hear her speak to me. To feel her eyes read the lines of my face as she hears my story. I want to watch her lips and brow move as she tells hers. To see her face crumple with every emotion then bounce back to this crisp youthful perfection.

I puzzle over each and every marking that graces her body. As if feeling them beneath my fingers will make their secrets any clearer. I see a light in her that will subdue my darkness. A wealth of life that will calm any fears of worthlessness. To stand in her light means to bubble with eternal bliss.

The raven's crow will be heard all over the city of Rama. And I will look to her.

Kudos to @iampillowbunny707 for writing this.