(…)
Her: Love, I’m afraid I have distracted you from your point.
Him: Points are for arrays.
Her: My Love… oh, my stars. You exhaust me.
…The light in your face remin… Ah’—no… Now’ that I am here… yes, I recall clearly. It is the Light of The Eyes. Through it, I remember the Moon being fastened amongst the stars, The Day bowing into proper position; prostrate in adoration. And beneath Her full beauty, the seas bringing their praise ashore, tide after tide… applauding.
(Gazing into The Light of Her Eyes)
Until that moment, even the Earth had thought itself anchored to grow only under The Sun.
Behold the power of The Light of The Eyes…
Yet it seemed nothing and no one could understand Her Love, so…
Her: She is doomed to be alone… isn’t she?
Him: Love… your interruptions are as a summer stretched too long.
Her: Love, please tell me… The Moon. Will She ever find Love?
What you’ll find is that Men began to write stories. Stories of Her beauty. Stories of fear, told in such a way that no one remembers your name. How beautiful are the pairs of lips—all four sweet as a drop of Honey from a honeycomb—and Her mouth, through which words pass, smoother than oil. Her Mind sharper than double-edged swords crafted by the offspring of the fair women chosen by the Sons of God. Becoming a gathered Offering of Capitalized Essences… bitter as Wormwood, sweet as Honey.
How dare they demonize the Black Space that encompasses The Light of The Eyes, all due to a lack of understanding. Perhaps the Sun should take note of Saturn—His Moons moving amongst His rings, some even becoming shepherds themselves, tending the edges of their shared, Miraculous Or. Too many are the beautiful Moons of The House of Saturn… what’s another for a Good Steward of Moons?
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