Her valves feed seeds of the sky to keep both hips 

Once more great four around numbers of fierce giants 

She storms each glow afar from within 

Her glorious glow never this near in Time’s log 

Holy is Nature's nuptial oath to her molding cores that call

No one knows now what no bow will ever bow to a hoe for

Her heart knows dearly each snapping need of butter blues 

Would the elements say “we told you so”?

She sows the dart with tips of her tender soil

Her gifted soul whirls at the World’s dainty steps 

Water’s ballroom hats her intent on the throne of illusion 

She doubts herself and fans Mirage's fangs 

Time paddles her on boats of fragile significant eternities  

She is lost in truth of her status behind thick curtains of lies told.