A Hashani Ode to Lady Ourania

Think of a crown,
its pale gold nestled atop raven
tresses studded with glimmers
of silver luminaries holding it in place.
Consider the colour blue,
how the word for it doesn't do justice
to the stones within the coronet,
the way their translucent eyes
reflect the stygian dark.
The Queen removes her circlet
at night when she sleeps,
but continues to reign on high,
to rule when daylight slumbers.
And even when shadows fall upon the land,
and all seems dim, the moon diminished
to a memory, the cerulean facets
of her sovereignty keep watch closeby,
full of the knowledge of her realm,
how she is faithful to rise
but even in obscurity
holds her constant place as their diadem.


Penned by my hand on the 6th of Ero, in the year 420 AF.