When I look at her, I see the keeper of dreams.

She keeps them like butterflies in a jar; she alone can free them, and I am afraid that they may never return when she does.

When I look at her, I see the keeper of keys and the maker of locks.

She alone can release the wild beasts from their cages; she alone can unlock the gates to paradise. 

Still, it is she who bars doors and seals of secret corridors, places that remind her of the faces she would like to forget.

When I look at her, I see the keeper of secrets, the knower of truth, and the teller of lies. 

She alone confronts the demons that lurk within the spirit, the heart, and the mind; she alone can forgive.

Still, it is she who condemns the uncommitted crimes, she who will not allow the guilt to ease with the passage of time.

When I look at her, I see the one who holds life lines.

She alone can pull me from the precipice of uncertainty and into the arms of security.

Still, it is she who may cut the ties that bind me to this world if I grow too heavy, like lead.

She fills me with dread as well as hope.

When I look at her, I see my reflection.

It makes me afraid, for I am the keeper of my choices.