Now even blind eyes can tell
what masterpiece you are
those streaks that slash your frame
are golden garlands that garnish you
in your smile your face reveals
that simple spell that makes men mad

Now all feet match to your shrine
to kiss your palms like a holy staff
reciting inflated incantations
in worship of your venerable figure

Soon your reign will see its end
and the crown plucked from your head
your grown petals will kiss the earth
while younger buds claim their scent
and men shall defile your once godlike charm
which had swayed all living eyes.

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