The Falling Lady

The Falling Lady
- Of a constellation in the night sky.

There she lies -
In the eastern skies,
Body contorted, twisted and bent,
Fell from heaven to the devil sent,
Pale white her arms fling above her head,
Landing crushed upon the earth her dread,
Feet descending last they flop and fill in the air,
Her expression clouded by loose strands of hair,
An ankle protrudes beneath her flowing gown,
Rushing up in the force that brings her down,
Jaggedly lain the leather belt around her slim waist,
Beneath her bleeding heart, contused lungs incased.

Dose she lay slain, or falling still?
Propped to a tree, or under a hill?
Did she slip or was she delivered,
Was she pushed by hands that quivered?
A heart that knew hers, close, and strayed,
Made her feel contrituated, betrayed.
Perhaps she took the plunge herself,
Overcome by grievousness' wealth,
To sink down, down into the unknown,
Quickly descending from her Lady's Throne.

Perchance, sighted by a kind heart,
Took pity on her falling apart,
To catch her safely up in his hand,
Before her skin would break on the land,
And sealing her in eternal glory,
Past through the years in legend's story,
Formed her spirit therein the stars eyes,
Forever over watching in the night skies.