Enigma

There are words, but she is still much more.

I behold her beauty like the night,

 Graced with endless, celestial light;

Within her smile and in her eyes,

There glows infinite, Elysian light.

From upon the ground, into the skies,

Perpetual mass beholds the light;

Of all her power, and all her might,

She does not blind with her shining light.

Upon open full, or open slight,

Pitch black dark could not cover her light.

 

Yet, she is the dark and so there lies

To behold her own beautiful light.

  Unbound life to any depth or height,

Quintessential of both dark and light.

And so her essence no vice could blight,

Nor ever quench her existing light.

No God, or charm, could again comprise

Divine temperament of her light.

So upon the day her body dies,

Her beauty shall persist in the night.