Morning Star
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It is twilight and the Morning star is shining.
The new Empress of the East is meditating.
She wishes to remove all of the sombre ghosts
That guard the gate to the inner realms of her heart.
As she gazes from her balcony she perceives
Pagodas & temples adorned with precious stones.
She observes the moon sink below the great mountains.
She feels the flow of the universe expanding.
As she enters the sweet sanctuary of stillness: ,
Gentle breezes penetrate her room & the first
Soft rays of sunlight punctuate her fine features;
And the intricate rose pink patterns on her dress.
As calm and elegant as a revered goddess,
She's a Persian design of divine symmetry
She mirrors fabled lotus flowers unfolding.
The light caresses her like a long lost lover.
As she gazes into the azure blue heavens,
She thinks of all her subjects: starless & unblessed.
She prays that they will all receive the Spirit's gifts.
Her dreams like angels seem to hang on the crystal air.
O Morning Star: precious & patient redeemer:
The sublime sign of the new day's divinity.
O Morning Star: illuminator of consciousness:
The certain sign of the sacred, enchanted hour
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