'Her green skin tattered ripped and torn. Her sneer at fire a laugh of scorn. The stars which nestle there 'pon her shoulders. Staving death's hand which could not hold her. Old world fade and new world flourish. Celeste and book reap and nourish. My poet's hand she puts to breast. In quiet night of warrior's rest. Perfumed fire her blazing hair. Gun and Greens stripped naked bare. Celeste my love my goodbyes come. Such words from you I shall hear...