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Description
Take your steps down the crystal steps,
and we will look on lightly, adoring,
bathing in the radiance of your gown.
It was spring, when you held your party.
I remember well; all manner of men and
women delighted in your company.

     It was merely a shadow of a summer
     or a spring well spent, the seconds
     compressing into long, fruitless hours.

They adored you, one and all, but none
so caught your eye but mine, you temptress.
I remember the glance: it was a simple flash,
but that was all that was required for me
to know what I had seen, seen, seen.
I had to repeat it to make sure I was sure.

     Life started the moment you lit the room
     with the effervescence of a thousand dancing
     chandeliers, revealing your grandiose stage.

But then, I know, you caught every eye.
Every man saw what I saw, but I know
that made me want it ever the more.
The glisten of a diamond, stained red with
taint unimaginable, to stain another skin,
could be seen like the allure of a goddess.

     And you were a goddess, in your own way.
     You had naught power over every living man,
     but power enough to halt their pompous strut.

I was a child indulgent in his favourite toy,
stroking the frame of a mere doll in wonder.
It was I who instilled life in you, and you I –
for 'twas not without a breath of life, of creation,
where a shred of naivety staked its claim,
that I would revel in these imaginations.

     Love without, love within, love without doubly;
     it was a threefold law of affirmation, within man,
     to know if it was blood or tongue that dragged him.

At the last step, the briefness of your face
in the crowd, the hesitation in meeting the floor:
and it was in a second of frenzy, of want –
nay, of need – that the world consumed you.
They demanded of you, too much or not enough
to know the value of your cathartic commodity.

     It was unsurprising they demanded much of you.
     You were essential, you were what they craved.
     More of you, more – but you had had your fill.

                   Before you were consumed, I heard you speak:
                   and it was these words where we first made love.

     Echoes in the light,
     trees filtering topaz love.

                   Knees granite solid, but heart sandstone weak:
                   you gave me just enough, but not truly enough.

     Our time had collapsed,
     begun to unravel itself.

                   I made a mistake, when I once held your boon.
                   I asked you to halt.
                                                        And so you did run.

     A fourth pass of love,
     and I was a fool all along.

                   If I could compare our end-time to the moon,
                   then I am barren, spent, to your black hole sun.

Description
Take your steps down the crystal steps,
and we will look on lightly, adoring,
bathing in the radiance of your gown.
It was spring, when you held your party.
I remember well; all manner of men and
women delighted in your company.

     It was merely a shadow of a summer
     or a spring well spent, the seconds
     compressing into long, fruitless hours.

They adored you, one and all, but none
so caught your eye but mine, you temptress.
I remember the glance: it was a simple flash,
but that was all that was required for me
to know what I had seen, seen, seen.
I had to repeat it to make sure I was sure.

     Life started the moment you lit the room
     with the effervescence of a thousand dancing
     chandeliers, revealing your grandiose stage.

But then, I know, you caught every eye.
Every man saw what I saw, but I know
that made me want it ever the more.
The glisten of a diamond, stained red with
taint unimaginable, to stain another skin,
could be seen like the allure of a goddess.

     And you were a goddess, in your own way.
     You had naught power over every living man,
     but power enough to halt their pompous strut.

I was a child indulgent in his favourite toy,
stroking the frame of a mere doll in wonder.
It was I who instilled life in you, and you I –
for 'twas not without a breath of life, of creation,
where a shred of naivety staked its claim,
that I would revel in these imaginations.

     Love without, love within, love without doubly;
     it was a threefold law of affirmation, within man,
     to know if it was blood or tongue that dragged him.

At the last step, the briefness of your face
in the crowd, the hesitation in meeting the floor:
and it was in a second of frenzy, of want –
nay, of need – that the world consumed you.
They demanded of you, too much or not enough
to know the value of your cathartic commodity.

     It was unsurprising they demanded much of you.
     You were essential, you were what they craved.
     More of you, more – but you had had your fill.

                   Before you were consumed, I heard you speak:
                   and it was these words where we first made love.

     Echoes in the light,
     trees filtering topaz love.

                   Knees granite solid, but heart sandstone weak:
                   you gave me just enough, but not truly enough.

     Our time had collapsed,
     begun to unravel itself.

                   I made a mistake, when I once held your boon.
                   I asked you to halt.
                                                        And so you did run.

     A fourth pass of love,
     and I was a fool all along.

                   If I could compare our end-time to the moon,
                   then I am barren, spent, to your black hole sun.