rapture Woman is a fickle creature, supremely confident and of immeasurable insecurity. Religion incarnate, this one, she casts a scornful glance at the indifferent expanse before her- rugged, delicate, infinite, intimate. Which is the beautiful and which the stagnant pool reflecting? At her feet, Nature's verdant threads cradle the felled and failed attempt, laid there by a lifeless hand. This time, it was an accident not of her making. This time. She raises an untouched face toward the heavens where gods like her gavotte, and consumes the surrounding ether. The breath dances on her lips before retreating. Her vanity insulted, her vengeance is inaugurated.