She is a glowing gem of neutrals, with pops of vibrant color, amidst a beaming Balearic sea of blue. Her ancient bones anchor expansive beauty. She is rugged, her craggy cliffs weathered by the perpetual rhythm of pounding waves. She is a fertile desert. The curves and mountains of her life force rise up like a mirage in the crystalline sky and reign sovereign crowned by ancient temples of solid stone. As the wind whispers and howls through her valleys and ridges, her strong hips quiver and shake off the pain of generations. She perpetually transforms anew. My bare feet have traversed her warm sandstone for lifetimes. A chorus of sheep bells lull me to sleep, and I dance rhythmically, stomping across her hillsides in dreamtime adorned in fine flowing white linen. The grace of the goddess within me emerges in remembrance of the sirens who sang with me in the dark caves of the east as the early morning light arose. In the west we sang the ships safely to shore, as her golden beams faded into soft pastels and returned to power in the shadow of a billion gleaming galaxies. Let us revel in beauty and bounty, bask in her radiance, wash ourselves clean in her saline waves, and taste the sweet fruits of lifetimes of labor. The sound of her womb echoes in the most hidden chambers of my heart. Let us steer our sails into her song of creation. Together we will sing ourselves home.