tears
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write

You are caressed by moonlight
and kissed by the sun.
You are made of nectar
and salty waves
and magical herbs
that grow as wild as your heart.

     You are the Vessel of Life,
a goddess on earth.
You are a healer, a witch
and a gypsy queen,
in tune with the cycles
and quivers of the world.

     You are made of milk and honey
and the crisp winds of autumn live in your hair.
Your spirit is rose petals
and burning embers,
sweet spring water
and nightshade berries.

     Your body is in sync with the Moon
that rules the ebb and flow of the ocean.
Your eyes reflect the calm of a glassy lake
and the ferocity of a storm.
Your tears are the drops of dew
on blades of grass at dusk
and your laughter makes flowers bloom.

     You are the product of billions of years
of colliding planets,
dying stars,
swirling galaxies
and perfect chaos.

      You have the terrifying immensity
of the universe encompassed
in your beautiful body—
How can you sit here with a straight face
and tell me you feel empty?