The Smile
Though the world was red with wars,
Though the trees were black with soot and grime,
Though too many things were wrong,
She smiled.
Light burst forth in the form of a moon that took up the blue-black sky.
Her lips kept going, to the back of her head and further, until it broke in two, hanging by a hinge like a jewelry box.
She was split in two uneven parts.
From the abyss that was her mind,
Came a single rose.
It opened to the full moon like the roses that are not of dreams, that sit dully in gardens.
But it was many-colored, and it was beautiful.
From the abyss that was her body,
came her soul.
It pulled itself out by hands that were gossamer.
But it was many-colored, and it was beautiful.
It rose out of the old shell, as if by winds unfelt by flesh.
It was not an It, but a She.
And She who was the innermost part of Her, plucked the rose that was her mind.
She kissed it with her perfect lips that were not lips,
And it burst.
The old body crumpled, discarded and worthless on the lush grass that had sprouted 'neath the feet of this new being.
She kissed it as well, and it became a birch tree.
Thus, the She that was the inner most part of Her stood on her perfect toes that were not toes, and declared that all should smile this same smile, and free their perfectness from theirselves.