Tears of Aphrodite
Run in rivulets
Down soft porcelain cheeks
Into the blood
Of the dying Adonis
An inconceivable conception
Of a magical bloom
It's cups
Like gathering hands
Reaching out
To the golden sunshine
Then close
At the blink
Of an eye
Like a fan
As tears fall
From the dark
And moistening sky
Silver globules
Ricochet
Then scatter
Onto the beckoning
Dry earth
As anonymous anemones
Commence a rebirth
Like newborn stars

by Jemia