Who?

I was comatose and amorphic:

as a product of collected earth dust.
While I was yet unclear,
In the middle of my fixed demeanor,
There has been the voice of mine.
Of questions, not asked
Of the answers, not said
Of the Dreams, not dreamt
Those questions, answers and Dreams
She know them all, I WONDER how
And if I will ever know...
I am  just an appreciator of her grandeur.
As I am a miniature, 

Petite was my loft ladder,
To the art of creation of that
REVOLUTION

which she makes the move to live

the most mighty in HOLDING her with it.
But WHO IS SHE???