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Lakshmi Menon

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There she sat, In a white robe, Her thick black tresses fell to her waist, Her skin was as radiant as the white washed moon. But beneath that tranquil surface, Was a wounded soul. She had bruises all over her. Some were love bites, Some were stab wounds. Betrayed by her own, She feared her kin, And strangers alike. Except one, Endymion, her love. Whom she fell in love with as he lay asleep. She prayed to Zeus for his eternal slumber, For if he woke up and saw her scars, He would find her ugly, too. She was Preyasi, The lover... ©Lakshmi Menon She was selene, the moon goddess #Selene #Wounded

There she sat, In a white robe, Her thick black tresses fell to her waist, Her skin was as radiant as the white washed moon. But beneath that tranquil surface, Was a wounded soul. She had bruises all over her. Some were love bites, Some were stab wounds. Betrayed by her own, She feared her kin, And strangers alike. Except one, Endymion, her love. Whom she fell in love with as he lay asleep. She prayed to Zeus for his eternal slumber, For if he woke up and saw her scars, He would find her ugly, too. She was Preyasi, The lover... ©Lakshmi Menon She was selene, the moon goddess #Selene #Wounded