Beauty held her torch aloft.
She declared,
"There is much emptiness."
So she fashioned a force
from the hollowness in the darkness.
She gave to her creation a form,
her very own spirit,
her own graceful voice
and a light.
She named her Dalida
and fell at her feet.

Dalida sang with a passion
fragrant as rose petals
that wept innocently in first light's dew,
and as sweet as droplets sprinkled
from the basket
of a lily-white dressed flower girl.
The nations swooned before her,
fell in love,
called her "Daughter of Egypt"
and fell at her feet.

              The darkness hated all beauty,
              was jealous of the joy and love
              Dalida shared wildly, freely.
              So he posessed her lovers,
              one by one,
              Like black dominoes toppling,
              they took their lives
              and fell at her feet.

              Overwhelmed, her light dimmed.
              Darkness's giant claws
              anchored in her heart.
              They pulled Dalida into ferocious storms
              where the waves and winds screamed
              'Enough?
              Fall at my feet.'

Beauty could not dislodge,
the shadowed talons,
nor comfort,
the grief stricken Nefertiti.
She finally called her home
and lit her torch once more.
Dalida whispered her gratitude
and fell at her feet.

And history repeats.
There are those too beautiful
for this world.

Nice poem .

NICE