Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Tell me a story,

of Aphrodite and her porcelain skin,

beautiful as a silk-spun sunrise

tell me of Artemis the huntress, of a heart

transfixed in motion, of unrequited love, a

maiden captured but for a moment,

illuminated by the moonlight

tell me of Hera, queen of heaven

of the tribute piled at her feet,

of all the poets, painters, and saints who

risk Olympus for her pleasure

so then tell me,

how Aphrodite in all her radiance,

Artemis, cold, dangerous, alluring

and Hera, she who is desired by all the

world, pale before my muse

who can move even sorrow,

with but a smile