Pitch white fades to black,
In this silent birth, no stillborn arises.
Contrarily, life thrives in its silence.
Her beauty everywhere, yet impossible to track.
Stars alight her skin,
Struck with constant reincarnation.
The brightest are long dead,
The newborns, hardly there.
Her eyes are the borealis,
Her gaze as cold as ice.
Rainbow fluttering irises, that break way once I stare.
Her perfection is my first sin,
She is the endless explorer,
I am the snake, and she is Eden.
Always present, but never welcome.