
When the firmament dulls into dusk,
my beautiful Artemis takes her pedestal
to hunt the very shadow of my grief.
What temple shall I build you, my love?
In what style & design? With what ritual, ceremony
and belief?
Your herbs of love conceal these scars;
Artemis, who could tell, once upon a time
trauma had pierced through my flesh.
In gratitude have I surrendered myself-
accept me, or I shall grieve like every wound
were fresh.
When sorrow descends again as Hera
and challenges for another Trojan War,
Artemis, now I shall fight your woe.
My tribute shall rage in every duel,
warmth whisper in every arrow, and love echo in
every blow.
Will the soul suffice as sacrifice
or shall I conquer the horizon of mighty Olympus
and make an offering at your noble feet?
In your crescent moonlight, your smile
illuminated inspiration and showed me ecstasy
in defeat













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