Andromeda

Cassiopeia

We join my mother, in the end. She glows peacefully now, her rage soft as embers. She glimmers as I meet her. She greets my lover’s whole and thanks her for her borrowed half, those stony, hopeful drops that guided us home.

We are each many in ourselves. Where Apollo gazes and light touches, we show him our petals. They are beautiful, those petals. Who would not want such a bouquet?

But he is not everywhere, regardless of what you might believe.

You have light in your eyes and are dazzled but shadows and nights endure.

Some of us are jasmine and bloom then also.

We know what a wonder it is to turn our sweet centres to star shine and feel it enrich our nectar.

Stories will change but we – we are constant.