To call upon the winds dust

Today is but a sore parting gift of tears
To call upon the winds dust—his oil-lamp spirit!
Such seas suspended in her dew-lit spheres:
His imminence; her acumens dispirit.

The wand that stirs her stars, her in a striking beauty
Ahead of the nocturne deserts eye, she cameleers...
Fronting the sun dune; the heartless moons neglect of duty.
Life parts her shores of endless... space a blear!

His venerable child did; but charge, her cup
Once more time for luck his funeral bell rung...
Beside her side; housed inside a scallop
His eternal star; she verisimilarly hung...

She weaned her infant devoid of a husband
Found true love with another unconditioned.