A breath of fresh air enters the body at a tempo pace, filling the lungs and steadying the body. Signs of life rest upon her plump, pinkish lips. As the matriarchs before her, she wades between the realms of the all-consuming void and presence. The battle rages inside as the tides rise. 

Each passing year signals an opportunity for growth and renewal. With the wind at her back, the desire to press forward becomes imminent. The present waits for no one and with a deep sense of love, she moves steadily towards the murky depths of self-reflection. The person she needs to become lies beneath the waves, where the final battle will take place to decide who wins the war. At a crossroads, a rebirth will happen but which one? One end stands independence beckoning her towards deeper waters. Focused and driven toward ambitions & achievement in a masculine sense. Alternatively, a freeing sense of love, home, and family call out. Asking, not begging or pleading, for her to turn around and swim ashore. 

Can you have it all? She ponders letting the waves of indecision sink her feet further into the sand until she depressed deep into the ocean floor. It becomes hard to move her lower half. Kneeling in subjugation to the vast ocean the tide rises yet again pulling her feet further down, she takes one last sharp inhale. Finally pulling her under the current covers her mind, body, and soul. 

The drums of war begin banging along with a rapid beating in her chest. All that she has lived for is questioned by the surf. Who rules you God, Glory, or Gold? What vitriol do you hold in your soul? What parts of yourself do you hide from others? Who do you love? Who decides your fate, society, culture, or you? 

The incessant pounding reached her eardrums signaling to her that she is worthy of life. Thrashing underneath the waves fighting for the breath of life gifted from above. The battle comes to a climax but crimson does not color the tide, she will not go silently into that dark night. A primal urge swells inside her breast, a gift from Prometheus, an ancient ancestor. Sands beneath her begin to shift, succumbing to a new master. Her right foot breaks free, planting firmly on the seabed floor. A witness watching with a melancholic disposition, the angel of death, patiently waiting for the outcome. 

Her ancestors jeer at the divine beast. Laughing for they know the angel waits for something that will never come. Unbroken. Reborn. Escaped. 

The fire burns brightly and breath enters the soul. Not content to relinquish it to the angel above, she lives another day. Breaking the surface tension water trickles down her face onto the rest of her physique, dripping from her hair onto her shoulders down her back falling in droplets into the water below. Opening her eyes gazing upon a pale blue sky with dilated pupils, sunshine baptizes her with an iridescent glow.

A breath of fresh air enters the body to tell her of years past. She is a wild-spirited celestial being guided by the forces of nature. The wind is her compass, the earth her teacher, the rain is her sister, and the sky is her mother. The angel will return to her again once she has lived this life, not to perish, but to be reborn.