Phoebe’s face, argent and effulgent, was lit by Aphrodite’s glowing love. I, too, bore witness to the night-sky plenilune. Her flowing ardour of unquenchable longing for the Earth was matched only by the myriad sidereal gems, which sparkled with ethereal brilliance seen in the most pellucid precious stones.

Her regnancy, sweetly flowing, cast a long-lasting lambency upon the brook whose noble mien swayed the hearts of wayfarers. This was the night of nightingales. O Blessed Philomels of the Muses!

Earth’s lachrymose would no more be, a new Earth shall become high-borne. Embraced in spiritual light, embracing noble intentions of milliard divine sparks; a resurrection morn will again give birth to Eden of old.


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