She walks in beauty
as the cherubim place
fairy garlands in her hair.
A floating dove
like swift Diana
hunting in the woods
A throng of youths
howl her name
all blessed and pure.
With flowing hair
rivers of onyx
she gloats – a goddess of virginity.
And yet behind the moonbeams
while her nymphs
polish her fangs.
She presents herself as the night sky,
afraid she is a mirror that will break
when hidden galaxies of her past
are finally revealed. There is beauty
in celestial bodies, too massive
to even comprehend.
She can’t keep up the appearance forever,
but she prefers the worship of her fuzzy night sky
draped by a galaxy of light bulbs.
She would rather be blindly worshipped than
her true glory be misunderstood,
but even admirers who have no intention
of studying the stars get bored
of staring at the sky.