I invite you in, through the lens, of my perception: my eyes, leaking tears, shed like watercolour-paint-blotches upon my cheeks, and skin, crinkled with the weight of age and all I’ve seen through lifetimes. Think again, I’ll ask before you come in: just a warning, for I wonder how you might cope to observe, first hand how your ancestors enslaved me and burned me at the stake. Centuries have passed, yet still I wear the scars upon the flesh of my rebirthed spirit like tattoos they bloom covering my womb like a protection against the curse of the distorted masculine; all those years, humanity wrapped up in struggle for power and conquest of all beauty on this Earth. I know you are different, deep down I know and yet, the fears still plague me from time to time and so forgive me, if I melt like a dissolving wax statue beneath the intensity of your gaze losing my core. For I am tired tired of all, those years misunderstood, labelled as a witch just because I saw I knew, I know how to look beyond the veil to tell the future from the stars and call upon the magic of the skies. Dare, dare to look – you said that you wanted. But remember, remember how Adam and Eve fell from their bliss in the Garden of Eden because of their thirst for the sweet flesh of knowledge that they didn’t know how to wield with their hands and so they lost their way their vision, blurred the sight of the Light and the memories of the Night all too much for their eyes to bear.