This is a rough draft. I am looking for feedback for my final version.

Sing, Goddess! Sing of beauteous illumination, and the love a man can feel for it! Lend your voice to mine, and help me to speak the truth!



It is on nights such as this that I meet my mistress.

I stand outside, in the midst of night (for she dares not come by day). She comes to me, clad in purest white, I am bathed in the gentle radiance of her beauty. I cast my eyes toward the sky, and there I see her, her beams caressing me and wordlessly assuring me that she has missed me so since last we met. A breeze stirs my hair, and I brush a little away, so that I may see my love. The wind whispers of the coming autumn, and I am content. The coolness of it comforts me, for the warmth of my love heats me and brings color to my cheeks. As I gaze upon her face, I, too, bemoan the length of the days without her. For you see, she does not come to me every night. She fears the night, and will not stay for fear of being swallowed in its dark cloak.

I marvel at how perfectly my fortunes wax and wane with her! She hides behind her black veil, and I am sad at her absence. Slowly, coyly, she begins to peep at me from behind her shroud. I am hopeful at this sight, and praise her beauty to bring her forth. Emboldened by my urging, she slowly, so very slowly, begins to cast the veil aside. More and more, she begins to reveal her face, and I am overjoyed at her intensifying illumination. Finally, she stands before me, forsaking all her black in favor of the pale ivory that suits her so well. For one night out of twice-fourteen, she is before me in all her glory. Her beams banish the dark away, and shine with the brightness of day. I come to meet her, without fail, for she is so faithful to me. I look upon her and my heart begs to know, why can she not be like this always? Why must I suffer in darkness, bereft of her light? Her gentle touch comes to me, and she seems to say that she cannot be with me always, for she fears the night, and the loss of my love. The night I understand, for darkness swallows many who lose their light. The loss of my love I cannot fathom, for how could I ever cease to love her? She smiles sadly, and tells me of my kind. That the race of men is corruptible, that a man can come to forsake that which he has in abundance. She protects her heart with scarcity, to teach me her value. She, without words, asks me to be patient, for in enduring our separation, I shall learn never to lose my faith. Other men have wrote that the appetite dies quickly when food is in abundance, but a starving man never fails to savour every taste. So does my lady keep my thoughts of her. I am downcast, fearing it will always be so; a taste of her love for one single night, and then weeks and weeks of hunger. She sees my sadness, and bids me cheer myself. Before all the lovely stars and the Earth's great host, she offers me a vow.

She promises that one day she will come to me. That all her fears shall be banished, and she will be at last convinced of my sincerity. Thus assured, she shall find some suitable woman. Into this woman, she shall pour the limitless beauty of her soul. The soul, being the only part of a man or woman that can truly love, shall be lovely and true. She shall give her a love of the arts, for only in art can we see the soul, and thus come to love another. She shall pour all her love for me into a mortal vessel, and her rays shall become gentle arms to embrace me. On a lovely night such as this, when her transformation is complete, I will find her. Though she will not know herself in her new shape, I shall know her by her eyes. With wonder and joy within me, I shall embrace my love at long last. I shall take her wondrous vessel to my lips, and I shall drink my fill of her love. Her vow moves me, and I am content. The only price she asks is my patience, that my love not fade into desire for something easier to obtain.

To this day I honor her request, for I am a faithful man. I will wait for her until love itself leaves this world entirely, and all mankind despairs in its solitude. With all the strength of my heart, I believe that there shall be a day where I am vindicated, a day where all my love is given me in return, a day where there is no cloud to darken the beauty of my night! I shall await such a day unto my death, if need be!

Though on nights such as this, I smile and wonder: Is that day so very far off?

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