Venus as Icarus She lights a candle to set the mood, Holding light and warmth ever so gently, Splendor entangled in her fingers as wax, A candle gives her a taste of the sun’s mane, Hubris burns flesh as her fingers wrap the sun, For the sun knows no owner. She clothes herself in a birds garment, Winds pass and tell the tales of time, She is rounded by each feather plucked  and placed, Wings carry her to lunar luxury. Venus becomes the daughter of the moon For the moon knows the sun She now armoured in plumage, Sat on a constellation Nestled between a crustacean and maiden. For life cannot exist without the sun, For the sun is light itself, For Venus is enamoured by the Sun.