Milady, Your brilliance and grace resonates from every facet of Your opus and You weave the world by an unnamed design and intent. Every smile and show of love is an echo of the work You do, but even a boundless Will like You can tire.
Celestial politics banished, and epic travesties delayed, would You permit me the pleasure of Your self for a night of not being Divine? There are enough Gods, Spirits and Architecture to keep the world-machine going to let You have a little respite.