Enigma

And even though she knew 

She could never really comprehend what enigma meant,

Or what it was made up of, the mystery,

She never shied away from facing it.

In fact, had she known 

The bursts of unknowningness 

It would pour on to her life, she would have even embraced it.

She could never really understand

Why they always depicted it the way they always had,

Dark, impenetrable, invincible.

While, in reality, it had always been the most sane thing 

She had encountered. Sure, she could never make sense

Of the depths it withheld, but there was a strange kind of assurance 

She felt within those unknown depths.

It was as though, the feeling of being in the unknown,

Delving into it's dark alleys, 

Which knew no known end one could ever really perceive,

Soothed her chaotic soul.

She knew no harbour other than enigma

In the ambiguous seas which she described as her life.

And while others, they had been petrified of the unknown,

The mystery, the enigma, the dark incomprehensible shadows,

All she longed for was, lives and ages 

Shrouded in it's realm.