And at her name
I fall to Dreaming
Of windswept peaks
and eagles,
soaring on high
floating on majesty.

I think of her and I see
the glorious blue of Heaven
and the rainbow of the rising sun,
when Sol, in her loneliness
gives beauty to all.

At her name, I hear
the lone wolf’s cry
echoing from mountain
to mountain.
Matched in its beauty,
only by its sorrow

But this is not
where she is,
Alone and on high.
She is with me,
in my heart, in my head
and in every thought and motion.

She is in my eyes
there among my
blue grey orbs,
clouding my vision
and my mind,
until I’m driven to distraction
by her beauty.

And she is in my dreams
where she dodges to and fro
hiding here and there
so that my sleep is restless
as, in my dream,
I search for her.

If I am lapse,
        And forget her...
...the wind will remind me.

And if I am errant,
        And leave her...
...the earth will return me.

And if I am far,
        And not near her...
...the sea will bring me.

And if I am cruel,
        And hate her...
...the fire will burn me.

She is here
And I enjoy her.
She is gone
And I long for her.
She is woman
And I dream of her.
She is Cheyanne
And I adore her.

                AcB 2.11.98