From solstice to solstice,
Equinox at the door.
From doorstep to doorstep,
the moon is in awe.

Bless the naive heart that knows not the invention of a woman's manipulation.
For it glows in the darkness of desperation...

Tears from stars
Caught in the cloud's Palm
Under the guise of rain
Precipitate to the hearts of the earth,
And through love sprouts the seed of
Man.

Every night the actor's lover sleeps with
A stranger.

Falling in and out of love,
Her hunger for danger.

Beneath her guilty garments,
virtue dies its natural death,
Imprisoned by curiosity
sated only by infinity...
               The cycle at its birth

Every day the lover's actor lives
A different life,

Someone less in full control, she could never love. Those flavors of men she adores,
carefully selected to suit her appetite's role.

Beneath pretentious cloaks and masks,
Enslaved by his own creation,
His own invention,
His Frankenstein stands perfectly still
In her eyes... As she opens the door.

The Dimensions
     of her heart.

The circumference
       of her soul...

Vision
Compromised

by age.

Form still possessed
by

ignorant beauty

Life's but a dream
and
the

stars.

The Dreamer's pillows.