Without her touch,
Life is bare
Without her breath
Cold, cold, the air
And heaven, her smile, so radiates,
That darkness crumbles to its death
Like buttered clouds,
Float by, her feet.
They skim the earth,
And in their wake,
White roses bloom,
For her, to greet
And jasmines off,
Her footsteps, flake.
Her glowing eyes,
Drown out the sun,
Star-encrusted ebony,
Envy of the desert night,
Travelers' guides to destiny.
Sculpted by the ancient smiths,
Who blinded, could never,
Create her like.
The secret buried in tale and myth
The strongest picks could never strike.
Were all the eloquent
Bards of olde,
And angel choirs of god
To sing
In her praise, their melodies,
Would grow hoarse
And never, justice, bring..
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