SHE

In my solitude I have found answers to questions I've asked subconsciously. I have seen beauty in its most pristine form. I have been able to look beyond the glass fogged by the filth of the society and feel peace. I have felt the beckoning of the universe seen its glory. In solitude I have felt the night breathe and whisper like a living being and felt helpless as I let her beauty overwhelm me. In her darkness I have bathed, in her womb I have been reborn. When the lights of the society go out, the night lights up in real beauty. It glows pregnant with mysteries and expectation of the unknown.

 The night draws in on her carriage drawn by shadows, spreading splendidly over the light of the day. She covers every inch of the sky and the earth under her flowing gown as she walks slowly into the late evening. All that is left of the day recedes in graceful retreat to her beauty similar to the way  she does in the dawn, quietly submitting to the dominance of the day as a huge fire breathing spectacle goes up the heavens. These are the only times they meet, the dusk and the dawn, the exquisite borderlines of the absolute she and the absolute he. Her submissive, permissive feminity beautifully inter-weaved with his dominant and powerful masculinity.
As he recedes, she draws in, in proud display of her full feminine nature which is infinitely sweet and cool. Her dark hair flows in the winds that ride in companionship with her as she flies over the earth and the skies. And being the sweet mother she is, she opens up the entire cosmos to her inquisitive child, the planet, which in the day is hidden in the light of one giant star.
She lets upon her child the gifts of beauty and feminity. Of cool and calm. The moon and the sparkling stars. Of imagination and and sleep. Of everything that is strange and exquisite. The seas dance to her moon, and a billion little lights light up amidst her blanket of complete darkness.
The moon is her most priceless ornament which raises the curiosity of the child to no bounds. His seas try to hold and feel this jewel of infinite mystery like a child wanting to hold his mother's locket on her throat. The curiosity of it never diminishes as she first hides it bit by bit and then reveals it in the same way in cycles of eternal perfection.
She is the expression of perfect feminine beauty. Her dress is intricately woven with bits of light, the stars, set like little diamonds over her dark veil.
She is the harbinger of peace, of rest and of sleep, the stopping of all work, all war and all pace. In her lap the tired world sleeps. And like the perfect mother she waits up in patience as her child lays in peaceful slumbers.