The most fearful of creatures
Woven in time snared,
Sleeps unsoundly amidst
The fires of her evolving nightmare

The prism protects from tainted brushes
With sorcery, a pungent scent
No human can initiate the spiral
Out of control and into the descent

The spirit child observes the calling
Many lives of full extent
The prism cracks as the white lighter
Smiles, and the book writes its own lament

She did not know the true purpose
It flashed in layers, coded and cloaked
The heart knew more than she could face
The mind an echo of a journey smoked

Out into the depths of the cosmos
Her soul fluctuated
By the missing thread
Her deepest nightmare
Held her gaze
And the mirror exploded
The razors now spent

She sees herself
The weakness exposed
Her greatest nightmare
Dwells in the throes
Of her passion for life
But not herself
The last lesson to learn
Before the ascent