Selene

By Diya Biswal

The light 

purloined by the forlorn Helius. 

And yet so naively, 

she gleams like a sparkle of fireflies amass. 

Radiating her soft silver shafts, 

glowing as the dull white pearls do, 

outshining herself 

in the dusky gloomy dead of night. 

Flaunting the night clouds 

like the smoke from a burning cigar. 

Each crater telling a tale 

never told before, 

while the lurking ones hide

behind her bulbous ivory self. 

Controling the raging navy sea

smirking in a cold glee,

sly as the fox

with knifes for eyes 

for those who mocks, 

a seductive thief is what she may be. 

Enchantress as she is dubbed also, 

Selene’s her name 

carved in moonlit halo, 

she’s unforgettable with nameless fame. 

I, for one, am in debt to her beauty, 

as if possessed by languor. 

You can’t fault — she’s a sin in silk, 

graced by the gods, a goddess herself

veiled with ash and milk. 

So let me kneel, I do not resist,

a willing disciple lost in her mist.

I offer my verses, my breath, my will,

to the glow that commands

even time to stand still.

You may not bow — not yet, not now,

but her pull is patient, 

and you’ll learn how.

For none escape her lunar decree,

and soon you too will worship her…

just like me.

By Diya Biswal