Hope

She's slithering through the tiniest of spaces, as softly and discreetly as possible, leaving no footprint behind until she finds herself in the middle of it all, being enticed and called on by so many. Innocently, she keeps gliding along, as a trail of pleasant fragrance lingers behind her, inviting all sort of creatures to feast on its aroma. Some of these creatures want to know the source behind the nourishment. And so the dance is on: the movement, the stillness, the anticipation, and the undulation. She may give in, she may jump in. She may retreat, she may stand still. And through it all, her presence remains, exuding that intangible something that grabs, inverts, shakes, and changes the other party to the core. And as for her, she simply continues moving forward and looking forward to the day when she, too, is grabbed, inverted, shaken, and changed.

She is slithering through the tiniest of spaces, as softly and discreetly as possible, leaving a radiant footprint behind that she is steadily beginning to recognize.