That which was not to be found

She was looking for that which was not to be found.
Every place she went, she carried questions around.
She weaved dreams out of magic...sheer art.
And slowly again, she would pull them apart.

The world was a colourful void to her.
She filled it with love and joy and fear.
Her thoughts ran in incoherent trains.
Messy like puddles of water in torrential rains.

Normadic was her soul.
In her hands, the reigns of Life.
Glorious in all her beauty...
In ebbs and flows, she escaped time.

She was easy to love...
But hard to hold.
She slipped by like the sands in the hourglass.
Yet in an embrace, she made you whole.

She was Contradictions given life...
A world of hues and stains alike.

Searching forever for her home in the wood...
She was our mysterious Little Red Riding Hood.

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