She went forth into the night,
clad in garments shot with light,
moving stars with easy grace,
the moon reflecting first her face
then hallow’d ground beneath her feet,
echoes of her voice replete
with sparks of heaven’s saving fire
to crack the hull of hell’s empire.
When he saw, he knew her name
but hid his knowledge all the same;
in moving by as breath of air
he caught, entangled in her hair.
He could not fail to save his soul
but deep desiring takes its toll
and when his breath had run its course
he still had not felt all her force.
And so she, sighing, wanders still,
moved by her own restless will;
only smoke and ghosts remain
as testament to fading bane.
She can recall, at sleepless night,
the way desire once took flight
and fled to rest, away off far
and drops one tear, a falling star.
_
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