Hail
thee, O daughter of the moon,
Untouchable
gem a million miles away,
Glowing
in the dark, stiff, and cold to the gaze
Void
in heart and needs, yet unmoved by creed
A
celestial figure of speech-- a mystical paradox;
Bathed
in the dazzling glare of thousands
Of
enchanted stars that bow at her feet,
Bound
and wound around her little finger,
Enamoured
of her swirling in trance;
A
sorcerer’s charm the old witch ensnared
Long
live, O mighty Queen of Sheba,
Unbridled
pearl of the sea in raging tempest,
Glistering
in the sand, frosty, and blind to the craze
Bold
in spirit and deeds, still untouched by greed
A
sleuth of truth and knowledge-- a maiden sojourner;
Caged
in the muzzling snare of invisible hands,
Of
haunted pasts that gnaw at her feast,
Stirred
and jarred by a rattling harbinger,
Lurching
in throes of stoic diffidence;
A
sea fire’s swarm of hailstorms endured
