she was a tangle of roots growing through the maze of interred corpses in shiny wooden boxes

snaking her way through the decomposed odes to instability as buried in imagery too complex

yet with a tenacity that bordered nearly on the obsessed she was able to suss out the hidden sun

that shimmering darkness in the last thoughts of insipid philosophers or ghastly poets

she was tangle of roots burrowing ever on with no care for the bodies left spilled in gravesoil

a fantastic phantasm aloof at the empty skulls knucklebones or cracked vertebrae left rotting