Heaven got so plenty moods At dawn she's like a sleepy maid Just awoke, and rescheduled, still, As she rise from her midnight bed Dusk is her blushing face As she sees all the love Midday she shines bright As she dances over the sky above Full moon she sits up there Her fair skin shining silver light As she tries to fall asleep In her gown of deep blue night Rain can be thrice In sadness, she sometimes weeps In joy, she squirts water, playful laughing Or she brings the water's salvation she keeps When angry, her wrath masses in clouds And cataclysms, that storm the land Fog is a try to cover the world's darkness As she cups it with a caring hand Blood moon shows her scars and wounds That had cut her deeper than any blade Blizzards rage in her despair When she cries out with words unsaid In eclipse, she tries to hide her face Shame letting her cheeks glow For even she is not all perfect Not always she can cover in innocent, white snow Every girl has, sometimes,her terrible twos And few enough are of such purity Heaven is not perfect But she's made of simple beauty
Ever wondered, what different weather and different daytimes mean? Heaven is perhaps the most beautiful being that is, out there... "No rain, no flower" One does not need to be perfect. Or, in foreign words: " Chaos makes the muse."