You come upon her
In hallways and halfway up stairs
In alcoves
In the shadows of architraves

You come
Upon her
Shines the light of a million unborn Gods

You
Come upon Her
Behind the veils that shield the machinations of courts
Upon the pedestals that raise aloft the reigns of tyrants
Between cheeky sheets with ribald flourishes adorned
Within whispered words and promises and lies

And you come upon her
When she least expects it
Sirenlike, fluttered abathe
In tears and suchlike fluids
Whimpered recriminations, premonitions, indecisions and admissions

And you
Come upon her such as you are
Roughhewn wrought of stone and tree and iron
And in her endless disjointed grace as you alight
And come upon her
Wishes back in broken hushes
"Just not in the tresses, that's where the clouds of glory trail."

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Miraman, in the year 1018 AF.