The Chandelier

Swaying to the sound of my heartbeat, rocking in my own world, when someone recognizes my rhythm.
"Saundra, hey! How are you today?"
I'm great... I'd be even greater if I knew who you're mistaken me for. She must be out-of-this-world dope if you're thinking she's me. "Mch, oh, you know what I mean."
No, no I don't know what you mean.

I've since resigned myself to the "Hi, I'm Chandra, like Chandelier" so that the laziness in your tongue won't have to meander through the myriad of incorrect ways to address me.

I've always found it interesting that pronouncing name's like Tchaikovsky, Zuckerberg, and Sócrates, flows through fragile lips with the eloquent blessings of grammar fairies. Yet they seem to conveniently disappear when addressing me.
Oh, it must be the honey dripped over these letters, binding them together before dipping them in a bath rich of melanin, then baking them in culture at 450 years of separation from my roots, and finally letting it rest at: 'You got me fucked up if you think I'ma let you mispronounce my name.'
Yes, "a rose by any other name would still be as sweet", but we wouldn't come to know it as a rose, now would we? There wouldn't have been countless songs, poems, and inspired ideas from understanding 'that a Rose, is still a Rose'.
And my flower's got infinite light.
I be the Chandelier, coaxing you into proper pronunciation because Chandelier, with its plethora a syllables, still rolls of your tongue more willingly than Chandra does. Chan-dra.

Chandra literally meaning moon, born at 11:11 pm, a daughter to the night, ushered into this existence by the fullness of the Divine Feminine... and Mama didn't raise no fool. Born behind the veil, because walking around with a light this bright requires a shield from all the bullshit.
I be the Chandelier. Labored into light, illuminating the paths of all those I come in contact with, purposefully lighting the way of the lost.
I be the Chandelier, the lone fixture unafraid to do battle with darkness. Electricity courses through my veins. Electromagnetic frequency: insane.
I be the Chandelier, the sparkly being that dresses up all your insecurities. The perfect lighting you won't ever find in an Instagram filter. She be au naturale.
I be the Chandelier, bringing prismatic spiritual experiences to your world, unraveling the tangles of your soul and blessing you with 5th dimensional emotions, before clothes ever hit the floor.

What I mean to say is, I am the Chandelier because it's the only way to fully grasp the depth of The Who that I am, for lights are always admired but rarely
understood... But you can just call me Chan.