If the World were agate

the Sun would be a vast topaz,

shining for the emerald

life atop bronzen earth, smiling down on sapphire

seas. The sky at night would be flawless onyx

and during storms, the clouds would weep opals.

Her tears, too, would be opals

if the World were agate.

She fills Her lungs with onyx

air. Her mind shames the topaz

out of the Sun: Her wisdom pierces sapphire.

Her courage is emerald.

Seas of cobalt and emerald

roll like waves through Her opal

veins. She whispers soft sapphire

words to the wind, Her agate

soul breathing topaz

life into breathless, formless onyx.

She dives headfirst into onyx

space, tossing shattered emeralds

to the wind behind Her. Topaz

curls burn with the Sun, and the sky weeps opals.

If the World were agate,

Her mind would be sapphire.

For She is the child of the sapphire

Moon, and now She bathes in onyx

skies. The stars are Her agate

children, plucking emerald

shards of courage from the bronzen earth. The opals

turn away from tears; the Sun abandons topaz.

In Her absence, the seas are topaz,

rolling waves under a sapphire

Sun. Brilliant opals

grow from earth made of onyx

and bronze stars bathe in skies of emerald.

Her children still are agate.

 

Her tears would be topaz, if Her own earth were onyx.

But Her mind is a sapphire, and Her blood runs cobalt and emerald,

and oh, She weeps opals, for the World is agate.