From the deep and emerald forest,
Silent as the moon in heaven,
Bathed in light, a horseback rider
Came and moved among the seven.
“One returns,” cried out the Shaman,
“He could tell a pretty story,
Judging by the hand that’s holding
Stuff of legend, history, glory.”
Robed in silence, seven sages
Watched the horseman drawing nearer,
Saw the treasure, clear as crystal,
Then, let out their breath in stages.
“Now are eight but who will show us
Where the final one is waiting?”
Spoke the Shaman, at which moment,
Something stirred within the forest.
Light of limb and swathed in mystery,
Dazzling in the emerald darkness,
Velvet steps upon the carpet;
Walked the ninth towards the others.
Sat she down beside the fire,
Tranquil as the moon at midnight
As the eight in spellbound wonder,
Took her as their inspiration.
Eyes that once were blind with wisdom
Opened then to something greater.
How it happened, none could fathom:
How the ninth became this lady.
So, there is the greatest mystery:
Free of time and made immortal,
Born to hold the key of history;
She, who dared step through the portal.