I try to capture you,
frame by frame,
but frozen memories don’t do you justice.
It is only your constant movement,
your process of change,
your contradictory faces,
your different shades,
that make me love you.
.
.
.
I am thankful to these times that shaped you,
I praise the gods who refused to save you,
and alongside me,
watched you go from fire to dust.
You were a rebel, a poet,
you changed.
It was an honor to watch you burn,
and help you exit the stage
Spirit of Tara 