She spoke to me. I wasn't ready for her to and it shocked me into nervous words.
She spoke to me and I knew that there was a void I would have to cross, if I were to understand.
My voice spilled into the expanse and spread outward clumsily, ineffectually, vaping swiftly out of being.
I knew that she would not entertain my apologetic existence.
Beauty does not suffer timid fools. But once entranced I could not turn away. 

As I have always done, I stared from my safe distance. But this time she had spoken to me.

     A beckoning. An invitation.

Could she see something in me that I was not yet aware of? Was there a dormant courage that was within my power to call forth?
Was I not bereft of the strength after all? I am sure she would not have spoken to me otherwise, and of course I would not have recognised her voice.
It was entirely possible that I had simply not allowed myself the chance; the gift of some inherent enormity that had remained silent only because it had not yet received the call. My call. 

So much time shrinking from that which I desire, when there was every chance that the command to summon all the courage I would ever require had been silent at the bottom of my voice, awaiting only my decisive intent. Even at this thought the void suddenly felt less frightening. I stood slowly, deliberately, and watched the majestic darkness courting me from afar. I drew deep of breath and sent a tiny conjuring across the chasm. And I knew she felt me then. She rose and threw herself skyward then down, dangerous and breathtaking, flirting in response. 

But her attention was not long held, and I would have to explore the full extent of my voice if she would take my audience again. Timidity was not welcome here. But for the first time, I felt that I would be.