Too much in her own head, she stops to breathe; 
Eyes closed against the coming of the fear, 
A battle pitched, a weapon to unsheathe, 
Her role: a soldier, general, and seer. 

Who sees the grandeur of this epic scene? 
One stopped, one small, one town in time-flow lost; 
The marvelous, appearing in the mean -- 
The goods, without the value, or the cost. 

Eyes open, now, she walks thus further on 
Past what is hers, and what was never hers, 
By ages past of lines and colors drawn, 
Into the silent thought she now prefers, 

  But this is life: vital, yet marginal, 
  And where reliable's remarkable