The Ten-Day Reign ...

It's the annual break from the eclipse,
Sun and Moon dazzle the crown;
Traders and the troops on trips,
Welcome themselves to the well-lit town.

The king's back from the silken swath,
And the queen's out of her harem;
Pearls, gems and sequined cloth,
The gifts of their people, for them.

In his court, there are songs and hymns,
But they're Hers, are the legends told,
Through the nine nights, of Her nine whims,
Heads bowed, and hands in fold.

Hers are the curves that form the clef,
The letters, jewels and the blades;
Chanting Her name, some find their kef,
And others, the calming palisades.

On the tenth day, Passion and Prayer sire
The dream, when hope is at its highest;
For a year, roused, everyone does retire,
And then gather, to gather from Her the zest.