Its ages and fades,

Revered and scorned,

Never one thing or another

Evidently

Most valuable in the lens of a camera

Or in the hands of a lover,

Or whatever they may call themselves…

I’ve seen its many eyes

Elongated with black wings and darkened lashes,

Or else bare and unwavering

In its many hues

Roll in distaste, laugh at gazes of admiration,

Glow with pride as it lowers its neckline,

Cry black trails at its lover’s scorn,

Close wearily with relief,

And awaken,

To create all of its many visages of splendour once more

As if nothing had come to pass…

Such is the nature of the modern woman

To cater to the most recognized religion of the world;

This is the original many faced god

…