The goddess in her tattered boots

Tip tap toed,

in her tattered boots.

She skipped the silver stones along,

for none told no clues.

Yet adorned in zeal,

or was it deceit and gloom?

For the chill that whizzed by,

whispered tales of doom.

At a dusky distance ahead,

scattered were pearls of water, she’d trust.

To pacify her dry soul,

she marched towards the horizon’s crust.

Every step that she took,

stomped on her heart.

For a mirage of bully,

only pulls you apart.

A wily laugh,

flung at her flustered face.

Belittled to bits by the devious of lords,

she scavenged the sky for a single trace.

Astounded at the sight,

of the enraged aliens between turmoils.

busy avenging their crooked prides,

to get oblivious in the barren soils.

Her world was upside down as it turned,

above was the soil,

beneath was the sky.

They envied the stardust she stumbled upon, disguised,

forsaking them, as if sour limes.

They admired the mirage of pearls she despised,

as moon, as poetry, as divine’s,

that creases their perpetual wars, yet over time.

Glitter in her unsettling grey eyes,

was a mere reflection of her stellar pursuits.

She be as bohemian as them,

yet called The Goddess, in her tattered boots.