In a tiny queen’s castle, I hold a sweet prize. In a museum, I take a man’s guise. If I grow in your head, I block out sound. If I melt in your hand, I cast light around. I’m what the moon does after it’s new. If you’re a poet, I’m what you do, too.

Under the soil, I’m the potential of beauty. Up in your ceiling, I’m performing a duty. I offer you nature or signal an idea. If you were without me, the world would be unclear.

Eos with her celestial torch scorches the heavens with its flame. A spectacle of vibrant hues containing marks of crimson and gold heralding a new beginning, but I am a fleeting masterpiece eventually devoured by the light.

Wears silk with no skin to show, Has ears that never hear or know. Bears a tassel , yet no degree Whatever thing might it be?

I can feed, I can tangle. I can grow, I can strangle. I might lead you where you came from if I know just who you are. Walk outside where flowers bloom and you can bet I won’t be far.