Not velvet night, nor obsidian’s deep gleam,

But richer—a warmth where mysteries stream.

Not shadowed petal, nor cavern’s hidden hold,

But sanctuary: fierce, tender, and bold.

O, dark bloom unfurled in life’s sacred design,

Where rivers of creation pulse and entwine.

A map written in folds, in ridges, in curves—

A testament the universe preserves.

No absence of light, but a presence profound—

A fertile eclipse where new worlds are found.

The color of soil that births root and vine,

The shade of the ocean where starfish entwine.

It holds the first rhythm, the salt and the sigh,

The gateway where spirits take flight or draw nigh.

A chalice of power, resilience, and grace,

A landscape of wonder no artist could trace.

It speaks without language, a wisdom untamed,

In softness and strength, eternally famed.

Not merely a hue, but a symbol, a core—

The essence of life, forever wanting more.

So hail to the depth, the resilience, the art,

The infinite wellspring, the beating heart.

O, dark bloom triumphant, in beauty you reign—

The source of all pleasure, the solace from pain.

The universe whispered, and there you began:

The sacred, the sovereign, the power of woman.