Swooping, soaring, through rain pouring
The Lady of the Air.
In heat and cold she flew quite bold
Without a mortal care.

She looked serene as she'd careen,
Diving towards the ground.
Her touch would fall each oak so tall,
They tumbled to the ground.

Over a pyre of scorching fire
The lady did breathe zest.
The fire, it raged until it caged,
Deceased in final rest.

She rippled pools of fish in schools
Baptizing with a gale.
Without a cry, the pool went dry,
A dim and foggy veil.

Feeling so proud and blasting loud,
A zephyr upon the sky,
The lady breezed, a world she'd seized!
Then something caught her eye.

A mighty stone stood tall, alone
Upon this barren land.
The chinook girl blew in a swirl -
He'd fall by her own hand.

Her ad libbed vow went all a'foul.
The stone, it did not move.
A great typhoon, she'd show them soon -
She had something to prove.

Lady Air crowed, but no one showed,
The elements were mute.
Quest for power turned this flower
Of air into a brute.

The rock stood strong. He'd done no wrong
To take this bitter whirl.
She fought alone, against the stone,
A tired, stubborn girl.

She cried aloud, for she was proud,
Too proud to stop and mend.
Like elements past, she drew her last;
A quiet, bitter end.

Like stolen breath, the air met death
Without a final cry.
The Lady Air, once proud and fair,
Now corpse upon the sky.

[Author's Note: This is a work of fiction and any bearing upon those
either living or deceased is purely coincidental.]


Penned by my hand on the 15th of Scarlatan, in the year 456 AF.