For Arabella

She is the Dance — of Unmade Things —
a Brush that paints — the Air —
Each Stroke — a World that wasn’t — yet —
until she placed it — There.

She moves — as if she’s Always Known —
the Map beneath her Feet —
Each step — a Truth — her Soul declared —
her Spirit — Wild — Complete.

Not bound by what the World expects —
She writes her Name — in Sky —
A Bird that never learned of Cage —
and never asked — why Fly?

Her Beauty — is not worn like Silk —
nor tucked behind the Eyes —
It is the Light — that Breaks through Storms —
and shows us — where Hope lies.

Arabella — may you Always Know —
the power in your Hands —
Each Dream you shape — Each Life you touch —
will bloom — where Art commands.