The fey dance gracefully
in their gold garnished robes
leaves flowing around them
By magic behoved
The amber stars fall together in order
Perfection sublime
Immortality emblazed
On their faces, divine
Subtle enchantments growing
Meretricious
Mystic eternities not the leat bit
Mentally nutritous
Doth curses grow weaker
When the sun kindly shines?
Or do the shadows grow darker,
their outlines redefined?
The more glorious the face
The more every blemish screams
Whether divine beauty is false
Only the beholder can deem. |