“I feel pregnant!”
I hold triplets within my womb. The idealist, the flame and the enigma.
They poured words into my pen, I put words onto their lips. They have morphed
and transformed. Multiple times.
“Its high time, Lady, set us free.” the fiery one insists, her imperial finger tapping on crossed arms. The patient one leans back – he knows he can outwait Eternity. The enigmatic one smiles, as always – he knows he orchestrates the whole drama.