Before you she stands, towering above, causing your blood to run cold,
Her eyes stare back, from the depths of the dark, the terror of hidden night,
Her smile gives no confort, nor her teeth like knives, as she gazes down upon you,
That impossible head, that reminds you just enough, of a lioness looking for food,
Red fur like a cat's, which covers her head, is a red like no cat has worn,
Her skin too is red, like dark red red rust, or blood that is darkened by night,
Or coloured as if, it was craved from the wood, of a old blood red mango tree,
Four arms do so spring, from her naked bare sides, four arms strong but graceful still,
Her body has the form, of a woman for sure, though like none that ever has lived,
But below her waist, is the tail of a snake, coils twisting and supporting her form,
More coils stretched beyond, and red scales entwine, coils long and dark and strong.
Her Shrine
Here stands a virtual temple, of sorts, to Herself.
It is a place of stillness and terror, of peace and fear, of all that is Her.
If you don't know Her, it may be an opportunity to meet Her the first time. If you don't know Her, you may ask why you would want to. While this a a legitimate question, it might not be useful, as those whome she chooses to meet will meet her in the shadows or dreams or a flash, or an encounter that will never be forgotten. This is an opportunity to meet her, not a method to meet her. The difference is important.
Enter or leave, it's your choice, as with all things. But you might remember this moment when you meet Her, in the future or the past.
May Her blood red coils protect you instead of constricting, and my She smile instead of strike.