BEAUTY XII

Selene will not have me weep

this night, a tardy scribe

marooned upon black sands

musing upon petrified

remnants of visions abandoned

and convictions lost,

now mere playthings of

the flagrant, flouting froth.

Through brightness that evades

me, she unbends her limbs;

pearly hands, gently chiding,

ivory fingers, tenderly guiding,

draw my teary eyes from tumbling,

tattered, travestying tides 

to seas of sericious silver-blue,

where the gods sail 

waves of peacock haze,

for Beauty's dreams harbour there 

amid aery pillars

of glistering perse and

topaz star mists along the shores

of Night, in a sphere 

that knows abiding light.

Here, I shall seek Beauty's lair,

till Dawn bids me descend

Nyx's starry stair,

for Spring now slumbers beneath

the snow, her blossoms

stowed in the Great Below.

Stellar journeys would engender such

longing, the Stars to trail

through westward portals thronging;

yet, upon Day's threshold, I shall

cast off all remorse,

gratitude speak for my blessed

earthly course.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: MOON NYMPH

Source: commons.wikimedia.org

Artist: Luis Ricardo Falero