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Poem	So beautiful--God himself quailed at her approach: the long body curved like the horizon. Why had he made her so? How would it be, she said, leaning towards him, if instead of quarreling over it, we divided it between us? You can have all the credit for its invention, if you will leave the ordering of it to me. He looked into her eyes and saw far down the bones of the generations that would navigate by those great stars, but the pull of it was too much. Yes, he thought, give me their minds' tribute, and what they do with their bodies is not my concern. He put his hand in his side and drew out the thorn for the letting of the ordained blood and touched her with it. Go, he said. They shall come to you for ever with their desire, and you shall bleed for them in return.
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