It’s said she’s made of storm cells
And a wild wolf’s hungry heart,
That she’s learnt the lightning’s secret,
To ripping darkened skies apart.
The power of her presence
Can bring mountains to her knees,
Her song is one of choas
As she stirs the angry seas.
Great souls don’t always come
inside forms that you’d assume,
But you’d never doubt her strength,
When she’s howling at the moon.