Who is she to you other than dust that disappears outwardly and drifts in the wind but inwardly a delicate rose made of coloured glass covered in chariot gold flames.

 She’s the rose petal of the soul.

Inwardly she sways and dances to the singing breeze and twirls in such a fancy manner.

Her master has hid her from such rays of the burning sun, from the anger and pain from the spinning world.

He cares for her precious anima (soul) to not be broken so he has hid her from the scorching heat, careful not to let her shatter her gold petals until the sun has returned to its home and the cool breeze...