For a long time, with great veneration, I searched for Kneja, sensing, in some vague way, her existence.
Alone because they didn't understand me, alone because they weren't afraid of her any more.
And then I realised. Deceived, hidden, laughed at, humiliated, perverted, spitted upon, denied, seducted, convicted, banished, battered, cleared away, disfigured, made worthless, betrayed, stolen, trotted upon, robbed, cut down, burned, poisoned, cast away, sacrified, exterminated, forbidden... she defies with her beauty, warmth, fire, light, market, faith, attraction, yeaming, rain, water, shell, soil, forest, bird, nobleness, dress, necklace, book, sensitivity, gentleness, craddle, wisdom, play, consolace, faithfulness, affection, ship, extasy, dinner, music, earth, picture, house, basket, bowl...
Grandmother, mother, sister, girlfriend, wife, dauhter. Soul. Love.
"Do not touch my circles!" were the last words of a great wise man and clairvoyant, in a time when scientists and poets were one and the same.
They didn't listen to him, nor did they listen to the left-handed old widows who, until recently, sang about her.
Because of that, all ancient stories and songs of the world are alike.