She remains unwritten.

In a world full of detailed description,

there is a poetry left unwritten

her eyes riddled but bound to no diction,

not god's creation, not eve who was bitten.

all expressions written, all but her light,

not one to be imprisoned in black ink,

a dreamer's last dream, a poet's first plight,

far away from death standing on life's brink.

unarticulated experience,

music unheard and unsung by mankind,

one can only feel the bright radiance,

beauty which baffled verses cannot find,

one elusive to imagination,

poets long gone, she remains unwritten.