Winter In Sephora Poem by Akash Justin Ovian

As the rush of the western tempest,
Ceases the isle into a furious dream
My silver-eyed queen departs afar,
On some expedition to meet the Gods
The world is quiet now,
As all the creatures of cold arrive at my feet
Seeking warmth from my wizard heart,
Asking to be heard in their plight
The ice builds on every peak,
And the birds leave for warmer nights
The queen has left a hollow here,
An island removed of its subtlety

As all aspects of flora are brought to not,
We the living await her return
The heart of hearts, the hailed beloved,
The mother of everything good
In winter the nights belong to silence,
A few souls turning to aging wine
Hoping for some distant sense,
Of warmth to stop the trembling

Hail the beloved, the mother of poetry,
The queen who kisses my broken days
Her secret ways are known to none,
For she works her wonders without her knowing
Such, the nature of her endless love,
That she can kiss without any lips
And beat all hearts without any magic,
And tune a sorrow to simple tune

Another Sephoran Winter in ice,
Where sunshine peaks through rarely to smile
Return soon, queen of the ice,
To kiss again your created delight
The world seems empty, without your eyes,
To look and behold the magic that's yours
The isle shall survive every storm that comes,
Ravaging into its forests at night

Return soon, sweet queen of the ice