Feathers of Dawn

There is a god, Quetzalcoatl he is named.

“Quetzy” he is called by his mother and friends.

Rising every morn alongside his star,

The deity pauses before a rippling mirror.

The surface of silver traps the sun’s first rays.

Why must glass reveal truth and lies?

The serpent took in his countenance.

Scales like emeralds covered his body,

The lime and sage armor glistening softly.

Jade irises flicked toward a tail of feathers,

The rainbow rested between peculiar plumage.

Why must shame entice the eyes?

Quetzy’s bouquet of color disappeared from sight,

Hidden behind blushing cheeks.

There was silent frustration, a fervent prayer.

It was a whisper for things to change.

But a god cannot have their pleas answered.

Why must the divines only help themselves?

The feathered snake passed a room,

The abode of his twin brother, Xolotl.

The curse of beasts entwined their birth,

One a snake with quills awake in the day

The other a dog who slumbers until night.

Why must light be cleaved by time?

Calendars and shelves of books blurred.

A swift progression through time and words.

The green and rainbow numen

Donned a suit of smoke and stars,

Alongside a smile of diamond points.

Why must masks be covered by faces?

The god stood before cyprus doors.

He knew of the one beyond the wood,

The one who held his burning heart.

Then light was revealed and words exhaled.

“You look absolutely stunning, Quetzy.”

Why must my heart pound when I kiss you?