Against the backdrop of a shiny night,
she walks the steps that mark her destiny;
her cheeks are glowing and warm, her eyes bright;
the wind in her hair is a symphony:
Blue light – the night is liquid confusion
whose sadness is checked by the stars' shrill dance;
she lays a hex with a sweet infusion
of sky and word, of precision and trance:
She is cloaked in blue like an azure ghost,
with fervent eyes and a dazzling mouthpiece;
the moon exhales, clear, from its monthly post,
waxing off from full to release the seas:
The time is right, so she opens the door
and meets the soul she was put on Earth for.