Reflecting Conundrums

Am I some reflection of Her as it is suggested and taught? Am I an embodiment? Knife bearing, sword waving, torch carrying, arrow aiming, arms open, runner and hunter, mother and avenger, daughter and tamer, a face for every emotion, a body for every need, an essence for every tapped and untapped jagged fragment. Bleeding veins without any joke of sin, that of a foreign body in a runway open to primal matter. If She is duality, if She openly acknowledges that there must be X for Y and quadratic equations only seek to further our education, then they are self-made conundrums to justify our base urges.

So much conspires to reject Her, the rites become harder to accommodate for that passage, to weed out the wanna-bes and lead the rightful heirs to the netherlands. To let them hear the forestland once again in all its glory.