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.