Night's hair unfurls her fingers

over the shoulders of the world,

as the earth’s darkness slowly disappears along the mountainside,

revealing those asleep in solitude's corner,

sheltered among the sparkling lights of their intimate sojourn.

In time, Nyx approaches the dreamers,

her presence,

a tempest without the passion of wind,

a field of wheat without sway,

her uncertainty,

a glint of light in a cavernous place,

silent and breathless.

And at once present, her fervent gaze remained steadfast,

her radiance slightly subsided,

goddess eyes focusing earthward,

transforming that ashen graveyard

into the bed chambers of the opulent.

For some, to ravish in power is absolute,

yet Nyx, primordial bird of paradise,

transcends this earthly temptation:

For how can Beauty confess its secrets when there is no lofty ear?

For how can Moon’s revered light vacate the heights no matter the adoring numbers?

For some, selfless actions

entail rewards less than the mundane,

transcending any follower’s glance or praise,

yet for others,

noble deeds are endeavored merely to savor 

the sweet, celestial wine of bestowal.

Maricopa, AZ

2/14/21