I watched a hand descend from pastel skies,
Pluck a fan palm and dip it in the sun.
Iris brush stroked her palette for my eyes,
Flashing a rainbow; her idea of fun.
Arms and legs brown columns reaching up high,
Beatific hues blest duty only one.
Sole judge and jury of those who would lie,
Liquor of Styx, Ewer of Death, her gun.
Divine Emissary seeking her Truth,
Celestial bands of beauty her Art.
Beauty and Truth, so Keats said, did unite,
Conflict in their paths though from the same root.
Dispensing justice and beauty impart,
Prism and Providence both seek the Light.
[Rachel Olivier is a writer, copy editor, and proofreader. Her poetry and fiction may be found in various places, including Everyday Weirdness, Daily Love, Aoife's Kiss, Electric Velocipede and Bewildering Stories. Also check out some of her work (or hire her for copy editing/proofreading jobs) at her site.]