He said, "Live"

There- see it?

Pitiful child

Lying by the road

O poor wretch!

Starving and cold,

Left alone out here.

Father? No?

Mother? Nowhere?

Shall none intervene?

Filthy child,

No one to care,

How can it thus live?

Lying still

Unwashed, unclothed,

Surely, it shall die.

Now, see her,

Lovely lady

Standing on the moon.

Dressed in sun

Gown of liquid fire

Wearing twelve-starred crown.

Who is she?

Regal princess?

Or, perhaps, a queen?

Not regnant.

That dying child?

This robed lady she

Enchanted

Transformation

Before me I see!

What magic

Befell? Ask ye,

To favor her so?

I say, Nay,

No fairytale

This is Redemption