Queen Of Night 🤍

She rises when the dark is whole, A pallid flame, a ghostly soul— No blush of rose, no crimson pride, But moonlit white, the stars’ own bride. She wears the shade but is not shade, A luminous enigma made Of light that hides from day’s demand, And opens in time’s silent hand. Each petal pale as unshed grace, Unfolds in some forgotten place. No sun could summon such a rite, She offers truth through absence night. Brief is her reign, yet vast in scope, A bloom that haunts the edge of hope. For what is white but all light veiled? A spectrum hushed, a vow inhaled. She whispers what the living miss: That beauty thrives where shadows kiss. Not all that blooms endures the day Some truths are born, then fade away. So seek her not in midday's blaze, But in the dark that knows her praise. For in that hush, her petals keep The dreams too pure to wake from sleep.