Looking at the Dark Side of the Moon
I see a woman, braiding her hair
Chanting a wish for every lock
of her long, black hair
Her skin is of rich olive
fit for the ornamental stars
and her eyes are deep, open
field of dreams
She used to be of the world
She lived on a hill
But the people burned her at the stake
for being beautiful and real
Yet her soul lives
and thrives among the lofty stars, transcending
time, space, and earth
And, looking — she looks at me and smiles
as she unbraids a lock of her hair, releasing
a wish
into the immortal universe.