What is life but a contradicting contradriction?

She is as fierce as she is caring, a sharpened layered doubled edged sword with diamond velvet hilt tightly wrapped.

She is as stunning as she is blunt, only wanting the world to show itself as itself.

She is as confident as she is humble, knowing her infinite worth, yet letting the world see rather than be told.

She is as careful as she is daring, knowing how to stay alive while engaging in all the risks.

She is powerful as she is powerless, she knows her own strength but does not choose to exercise might.

She is as dark as she is light, engulfed within the endless void filling the empty with substance.

She is as empty as she is full, devoid of love from the world filling herself with love from within.

She cries for love when it is not there, yet she throws the present away driven mad by the storm of chaos that never seems to peter out like the Florida rain.

The world is hers, and all is inside her mind, a powerful beauty, ruler of all, yet master of no one except herself.

She is perfect in her imperfection, the faithful travel eons through the ages for a glimpse of worship.

All that is alive is driven to madness by the form.

To see the greatness that is achievable, to feel the mammoth weight of possibility.

To be crushed into dust by inaction, may be the most merciful of her actions.

Am I caught up in the dilly dally of life's spell? Of course, it is as blatant as a the sun, yet it was never about me, only her.

Trials by fire produce Diamonds.

I no longer desire to be blinded by her brilliance, yet to be the light refracted through her eternall prism.

Is that crystal clear?