Our queen is a day laborer. We are lords in her kingdom. She says we were born to shine. We say she was born to shine. Blessed be our lovely queen who dwells between our eyes. She’s nobody’s prophet, she says. We say she is. She never calls herself our guiding light. We do, but never in her presence. We know better. When she blushes, the sun becomes a scarlet moon. Her wisdom is priceless. Give it away. She gives it away for free. Not because she has to, but because she wants to. It is her destiny calling. She is the lady with the holy in her face. She’s a humble force of a beautiful mercy. We burst out joy whenever the sun touches our face. We are reminded we were born to shine. Her face is shimmering jewels of wisdom gifted unto us by kings in vagabond garb. Swine who help her rule this place are angels with purple flowering feathered wings immaculately conceived. We are reminded we are more than looks perceive. Go ahead and touch. You want to, so go ahead. She will not mind a gentle touch. Hers is a diamond face; spinning prisms of nuclei with Buddha in the middle. There is another face, but that one is not human. Our queen is an elegant piper of tones in shades of love. She is a continent on a lonely planet singing along with the universe, and the universe next door.