Strong

Not a candle nor self illumination.
Would it be candid or simply ignorant to call it her conscious?
Her invisible hat tipped slowly,
She steps forward as if to confront yet she stands her ground.
Opinions are forming slowly, caressing the insides of her skull.
Her eyes. They do not simply take and adjust, but give in greater amounts.
They see past the fourth dimension, past her foe.
Knocking at her door or simply getting knocked down? Her gaze is unlimited as she pierces the watery obelisk that
is her foe's exterior
He or she cannot stand, let alone continue.
This gaze is not love or hate.
Neither judgement or holy condensation
hanging on to an empty shell.
This gaze can be infatuation or lack there of.
Her eyebrows are arched in a slight curiousity
that she might know all of the answers.
There's no such thing as a sudden realization.
Those ideas and facts form over time.
The x-axis of the timeline is full of incomplete thoughts
that have yet to become those patents or those copyrighted materials,
Intellectual Property