. . . . and she tumbled into this world of Man,
the first and lastborn Child of the Sacred Union between LoVE and LiGHT.

A softly mewling changeling ; dressed in the raiements of moonlight and rainbows ,and held tender in the arms of dreamtime where comfort is found in the gentle rhythm of the Heartbeat of the Universe.

. . . and this child became the very Breath of Creation, a languid and deeply drawn sigh; a somnambulist on the verge of awakening from a timeless journey of wonder, from which there was to be no emergence.

. . . . and the child became the Daughter of Woman, the golden fruit of the perfection which had ripened and plumped to a fullness of Spirit, and yet a still unfinished Opus perched , petulantly upon a note of such brilliance it pained the Artist to contemplate the finish of it.

The Glory of Her grew more ephemeral and elusive day by day as She stepped more wholly into Her power and destiny.

Slipping easily in and out of Time, a starbeam through an open window, a dance of moonlight upon water, a vapid trail of nothingness ; leaving Hearts weeping with the joy of Her and confounded by the shadows of Light she left in Her wake.

The only evidence she had ever visited at all.

This Glory, this accident of subtle and physical mutuality, weaves her magic within the fragile fabric of Human consciousness. Her boundaries are entirely un-ended . She will keep on walking even when the gates ahead seem closed, for Her they open, and bid Her welcome.

For She is the fragrance of a kiss, delivered upon the lips of time, warmed by the touch of a hand that trails frailty over eyes brimmed bright with tears of unspoken sadness and unexpressed grief. This is how it is for the perfect; they cannot find their breath within the ordinary, not without pain.

. . . and She came, this fusion of LoVE and LiGHT, this Glory named LoHLi and she came to open doors to Hearts , and found them waiting. . . and wanting . .
for Her.