She is a daunting precipice—a parceled diamond of Ge
Like mystical midnight stars reaching lunar skies, she stabs and heaves into sacred upthrows of sheltering heaven
Such is a musing whale leaping from her Arctic sky—blue as God’s soft, holy hue
This is where earthly tapestries meet angelic hosts
Upon entering such throngs she is clad in silky dresses of bleeding, purple flora; wooded of giants wise, grazing beneath night’s gentle flute of sashaying Northern Lights
Speaking in universal tongues, she is an immovable multiplicity—an imperial zenith
She is a magick solstice whispering a pirr; light and breezy
By and by, cold’s icy irris ignites blue, frozen fire
Upon winter’s looming tide, bone white veils warm her head whilst sketching a glowing pike of fallen snow
Her legs ever remain planted and heavy upon a timeless earth
She is forever constant; a surreal, immortal cusp shaping an ever expanding universe