Vol 5, Num 11 :: 2006.06.02 — 2006.06.16
She could not have known
as a girl tasting Jasmine petals on her tongue,
capturing their sweetness,
that she would share a bed
with the King.
Or that her mornings of prayer
would thread the carpet she paced
to his throne-room,
heart beat joining
the cadence of her steps.
The truth is,
she was already chosen,
the incense of belief cloaking and holding her –
the way each flower’s scent is elected,
known, before it blossoms.
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