ForcedAnonymity

Scheherazade is a storyteller by birth, trade, and choice. She would have it no other way, not for all the stars of the night sky nor the moon and sun, moved by the hands of the Great Ones. She has set out on this "forbidden" journey to find a new story, her own story. How she laughed, running from the admonishing voices of the Elders, hopping over brush and undergrowth she'd known since she had been new. She spreads her arms wide, bathing in the Great One's gift, another day of sunlight. She knows many hardships await her, yet she cannot help but smile, wide and free, in this miracle of day. The rays falling through the green canopy above h

(Back and forth, Back and forth) Beauty comes from nothing (Back and forth, Back and forth) A lonely melody, unaware (Back and forth, Back and forth) A waltz, repeating many times over (Back and forth, Back and forth) Echoing within our minds Walking through the halls of time Shoes clicking on the amber floor Between these marble walls, the maiden Continues her waltz of solitude (Back and forth, Back and forth) This song is yet unplayed (Back and forth, Back and forth) Chaste of melody, Impure of note (Back and forth, Back and forth) Even if it is remembered (Back and forth, Back and forth) It cannot be repeated Robes of m

 The graceful girl of the garden, she greets the flowers, and they bow. Watering can in hand, she walks the world of dreams and heals the souls of those of flesh and bone. Beautiful is she, cascading curls the colour of soft, fertile earth, graceful dress of the finest emerald-green silk. And, oh, her eyes! One, the bright fiery red of the passionate flame that burns deep within her heart; the other, the green of the lush plants and trees for which she cares so much. She treads lightly upon the ground of dreams, making not a sound, her watering pot filled with the sweetest of water.