The progeny of Chaos,
The being who rules the darkness,
Cast o'er the earth like a seamless blanket.
Dotted with cosmic dust, blazing comets
and the regal moon.
The harbinger of respite,
She casts her shadows over all
that is seen by the naked eye,
And far beyond.
Come hither she says;
The enchantress she is,
She weaves a spell,
Slowly serenading your souls.
Only to have you bound
Within her starry embrace.
Come lie down she says;
As a mother would,
Beckons you to lie in her lap
As she gently cradles you.
Whispering secrets in your ears,
Of lands and rivers,
Of of heavens and nether,
Of the cosmos.
She sings a lullaby,
Like the nightingale.
Ballads of the mighty,
Paeans to the almighty,
Whilst you continue to slumber
Soothed by her cool, tranquil
Fragrant wisps of breath.
Listen, she commands.
The astral seer, she is.
Hear carefully, the answers
That you seek so ardently;
To your past, to your present and
to those of the posterity.
Eyes closed you dream, ponder,
Mull over in restless solitude.
Who is she you ask;
The enchantress, the mother,
The nightingale or the soothsayer?
She, I say is a mystery.
Wrapped in layers and layers of
All that is seen, yet unnoticed.
For she is the lie and the truth.
She is human, she is the divine.
She is naked, yet she is one in disguise.
A mirage who escapes your confines,
Tantalizing you to no end;
As she remains near, yet out of reach.
She is an enigma;
Manifesting in a thousand forms,
Though she is the one, the only,
and none who anyone else shall be.