She skims like a swan across the water
as fear evaporates into a dark cloud
and is blown away and scattered.
The white dresses of passing feminine
time
loom in the distance, one possible
harbor on her adventures.
Yet, other paths open up and an
archipelago
of unpredictable futures stretches out
along
the horizon. Each stroke of the swim
Moves her closer to the bounty of her
choices
but as she glides, the opposite edges
of the island
chain become harder to steer toward.
Progress cuts off possibility, but
still she swims,
the swan out on the sea, traversing her
life
toward her awaiting destiny.
On which island will she land and how
long
shall she tread upon the sea?
Swim, my swan, to destiny.
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