The state of being unimpaired,
A mystifying lionhearted Spartan,
Humbling wind whisking above and below the conifers,
An endless venture of one’s self limit and potency, she was.

Proliferating John Doe’s speak of vengeance’s unconnected half,
Necrology summoned by those fortunate, is given to the less,
Words and weeping bestow the ache of one adored,
Nothing short of respected individuality, she was.

Not even demise is to corrupt the incorruptibility of this glorified soul,
Immediate reincarnation back to earth, but forever unobservable,
Namelessly walking on the dominance of time,
All integrity yet slightly reserved, she was.

Hair prominent like a paragon, rare like Jackalopes,
A breath of fresh air in this raunchy world catastrophe,
The smile that rejuvenates a battered spirit,
Ineffable and forever passionately exhilarating, she was.