Queen on the Mountain

In the gentle rays of morning,

High atop mountains blue;

Her kindly radiance adorning,

Against darkness staging coup,

With warmth of liminal moon.

Ancient eyes that tell a story,

Of maiden rhapsodical and fair;

Cursed by sanguine blood,

Brought low in sea of despair,

To rest in intertidal repair.

Against currents her power wakes,

In war against colder fates;

Her own passion and joy she slakes,

Providence and peace she creates,

Shedding light on all around her.

Shackles of the past are broken,

And mountains will be moved,

To bow to her ascension;

Heir to divinity she was proved,

Taken to higher dimension.

Now at the peak she rests,

The world laid at her feet;

Leaving behind the tests,

With serenity found in her retreat;

A reward writ in blood and stone.

I, the traveler, look in wonder,

At all that she has wrought;

Inspiration hits like thunder,

An errant and pleasant thought,

Receding, now, to gentle peace.