At the Altar of Selene

In a shroud of gossamer
the Shadow Maidens
bear their Mistress
neath the midnight bloom.

The moon doth shine
as bright as day,
but she is a pearl
in the depths of a dark sea.

Ghostly as the moths flight
aer an unearthly light
the handmaids of Selene
bathe within her silver
pool.

Without fear all may
look upon her ethereal visage,
she has ne the jealous vanity
of the sun who turns every
face away, assured
within her naked purity.