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Balanced, refined, expressive and sharp, Like the gentle, piercing string of a harp. She stands alone, but not by choice, She had yet to share the sound of her voice. One day she dreams there will come a time, Where upon a stage she will read and rhyme. The rhythm of her voice will change Depending on her mood, but strange? She has not yet, the opportunity To express herself for the world to see. Buyan-born and bred she lives Among the people she loves and gives No mind to naysayers, downers, foes But dancing, singing and acting she goes On and on, in her head, round and round Embodying the wind, the fire, the ground. At last she found a place to play, With others like her, a place to stay. To learn, to practice, to express and still Be true to herself, and allow her will To run free, run wild, her passion filled, It is none other than the Muse?s guild. ~Q'ora, the Buyan Needle | |