Idolize your equals.
An improper and dreadfully ill-advised idea, or, so I’ve been told.
But I can’t help it, dear. You’re human, but pluck out my eyes –
And make them your own – you’d see yourself formed of Babylonian gold;
As your beauty invokes the Hanging Gardens in a fleshy disguise.
Lionize your equals.
We’re cut of the same cloth, but yours embroidered with gems –
With your Rose-Quartz complexion and your heavenly, beautiful bismuth heart.
We grow from similar soil, but something is different about your petals, your stems;
With a healing quality of Eshmun, blessed with beauty from Astarte.
Prioritize your equals.
I don’t mean to get ahead of myself, truly, but I just want to reach where you stand.
All the idioms I muster in your name – as words stand null for me.
As your being is gorgeous and oceanic, and alas, I’m still washed up on land.
Perhaps we are equally aquatic, but I’m long dried up, unlike you, my sea.
All arise for equals.
I stress we are the same, in a way, call me a star to your sun if you will.
But you shine so bright it burns – while my rays still lay on the downtrodden.
And eventually, a supernova will take me out of view, but you shine on still.
For in comparison to a sun, what is a flame’s fate if not to be forgotten?
For someone so equal to me, dear;
you have always been so much better.