The Heartless Swan

She is a swan and she makes much of her wings

she roams about in weightlessness

she belongs to the earth

Though the brightness in her face holds no illumination

her heart is slow

it does not wither it stays at flow

it is still like a stone

it breathes but merely to beat

her heart has not yet stirred

her white feathers are unsullied

She is the evening star in her own vespertine

though she herself does not notice these stars

there is no day or night dream

she is mute in the heart

she withers her own soul

Yet her body is fresh and unspoiled

free from all taint of what is lewd

her body and heart are unlaced

she swims by the lake

and in her ripples and unawares

Isis mourns for her loveless soul

she weeps for the heart she keeps

she cannot grant her the spirit

for you earn it through love

There is no longing or desire

no one that makes her heart throb

she is alone

and in the heartless swan

with her opal face and generous eyes

lies the missing spark almost livid

she notices no sky

there are no hot suns

or sanctified full moons

She does not hold the eyes

to perceive beyond the ordinary

It seems she's blind

she lacks the spirit

and she does not know

the fellow glory of love's splendor

her back is bare no baron to embrace her

She holds no need for love

and while gentlemen try to steal her heart away

she swims on by towards the sunny bay