I find this image so very striking.
The colours paint this lady, as one of granite.
Is she a woman of flesh and blood, or is she a memory of times gone by, when giants walked through our lands?
Is she a woman of flesh and blood, or is she a creation of ours? A bust. A golem, sent to inspire, to protect.

She has a strong face.
And yet she feels raw.
It's more than the piece feeling undone, but the woman feels undone. Or as if she was never done, never truly constrained in her flesh, in her shape.
She looks at us.
She looks, and we are judged.

And then we look at the piece, where you say to close my eyes and be transient, but it is looking into the painting's eyes that makes me feel transient.
More than that, this line makes me think of babies, who do not have object permanence yet, when you hide your face, and they think you actually stopped existing.

And then, that "still" in the second stanza. It always arrests my attention.
I visualise not someone who is still flying, or not just, but a hummingbird, who's flying while being still. Or here, someone who is coasting, gliding. Flying without movement.

And I see the call to Ouroboros here, which I remember calling on recently as well. A poem that is also similar to the poem of @d-pend we critiqued last Thursday. Speaking of reinventing yourself.
Letting go of past yous.
And finding a new one.

A poem speaking of hope, and belief that you can let things go, that you can trust someone else, to lead you onward, to something better.
Together.

Not so scary, that woman. Granite faced, stern looking.
But strong enough to hold you as you dissolve, and help you reform.