The Neverending Sisters

That’s the thing about this city,

It’s where sorrowful harmonic ditties,

Are sung year round.

This city of music is full of unexpected twists and turns,

Where two maidens rule with equal power over the place they do call home,

Their palace is a colossal dome,

And their citizens roam underneath it.

Waltzing their palace with plenty of joy,

Both by dawn and dusk,

The maidens’ fairy sprites,

Their most loyal attendants,

Keep them company both day and night.

Yet the two twin maidens are sisters in disguise,

One the mistress of illusions and the other heir to the cornflower skies.

They often bicker but soon apologize and revise their ways,

To bay their tête-à-tête out of the door astray,

And resume their work once again.

These two were bound by the same royal oath they swore,

When they first became magistrates over their palace eons ago.

They protect their humble abode.

With their trusty silver pointed arrows and sturdy steel bows,

Which causes showers of metallic paint to grace the inky black or blue skies.

Despite the huge gap of passing time,

Their royal duties in the kingdom do remain the same.

Their tasks do not fluctuate in the least no matter the decade.

These sisters have no days of leave,

They work without end until the end of all time.

These fair maidens are imprisoned in an old rickety tower covered in impenetrable ivy,

Whom no prince has dared to conquer the lengthy climb,

Since that climb would take one’s lifetime.

This tower is enchanted by spells of all sorts,

Which allows strangers and creatures to enter and exit the tower with ease,

But the poor maidens are stuck inside their prison with no way out.

No matter how they use their skill with the bow,

Will be the key to unlock this tower of theirs,

So each day ends and starts with the long forgotten story of the two poor maidens.

They work in harmony to watch their kingdom prosper and change each day,

As they remain the same, stuck in an unfinished play,

To while the days away,

To wait patiently for their happily ever after,

Locked up in their chamber without hope,

For their Prince Charming to someday arrive,

And free them of their troubles.

But time has made quite clear,

That their destinies are to continue their work as they had done,

Since the beginning of all time.

This story of theirs has been passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth,

And long ago deemed quite unimportant by their citizens,

Whom the maidens watch over each day with care.

Their fame is known throughout the city of music,

But their presence is hardly ever noticed and mainly taken for granted.

Their subjects bestowed their two sovereign leaders with the sweet names Daystar and Celena.

These same two sisters tenderly till their kingdom,

And with their bare peachy hands they dig in the ground to give birth to their people.

The two rulers of the city keep watch over their kingdom twenty-four seven,

But even royalty needs to take breaks sometimes.

During their tedious posts,

The maiden in control of the palace retreats to her favorite room in their large spherical tower,

To while the time away,

All alone in tranquil peace,

Until the other sister takes their place.

When one of their work shift is over,

The other gets some much needed rest.

While Celena’s works her midnight shifts,

She often takes joy in misleading travelers of all shapes and sizes,

Through the darkest part of her witching hour.

Her attendant sprites trap them all with a huge butterfly net,

And bring them to her for her own pure delight.

She teases the wanderers’ gullibleness and sends them back into her dark secluded forest,

That ominously borders the two sisters’ shared palace,

Which is hidden from the naked eye.

Celena forms a dense fog to envelop the forest shrubbery,

And calling each lost traveler by name,

Like a Siren's sweet and melodious call,

Makes it impossible for her victims to evade the singer.

She creates a play in which the wanderers are her puppets,

The setting her forest,

Herself the director and playwright,

Where the plot of her comic play is to make the actors wander aimlessly about the stage.

With strings as taut as her silver bow, she guides her puppets every move to make her play a success.

Her sprites serve as her attentive audience,

Laughing at all the correct pun lines.

Most times, the actors begin to prepare for a fearsome duel,

As the twinkling stars above are snuffed out like dozens of candles after they have served their purpose.

Celena sends her puppets on their way again,

Out of her forest to leave them amazed at their all too realistic dream.

With a swish of her wand she arrives back in her tower to watch the descent of the other part of her soul,

Shedding countless tears

Down,

Down,

Down the tower,

To fall onto the grass beneath.

With a last farewell of her mirrored reflection in the sky,

She summons her sister with a chiming gold bell to take watch.

Her older sister Daystar arrives in a flash,

To reprimand her sister’s foolish and cruel behavior towards their people,

Before taking her position on top of the steeple.

Celena waves away her sister’s remark and with another flick of her wand,

She leaves her sister's pestering presence midway through her lecture,

At once teleported to her own sweet room.

Once donned with night clothes and cap.

She drifts off into a long awaited nap.

With the maiden of mischief out of the way,

Daystar may finally display her other radiant half without a moment's delay.

Up,

     Up,

          Up rises her other half in a blaze of blinding light,

To present to her kingdom a new and improved playwright.

Shining brighter than a blazing meteorite,

Daystar's other part scares away Celena’s dark city of mischief and illusions,

To bring forth the truth behind her sister's petty shadows.

Once her other half has fully arisen out of bed,

She waves her wand to send herself to her pride and joy inside her tower,

To take utter delight in her new made daylight to bask in it for hours,

In her large garden full of blooming flowers.

Her earthy residents include bellflowers as sweet as honey,

Sunflowers as yellow as a golden canary’s chest,

Monstrously long pea vines who contest for space across the crumbling garden wall.

Daystar and her sprites seek refuge in her humble garden during her watch,

To water and till her precious plants.

The sisters citizens rejoice in Daystar’s bright light,

And cower during Celena’s overpowering twilight,

They come in thick crowds to keep the sweet maiden company,

To sing songs of joy and welcome Daystar’s new play that always ends happily.

Keeping her head up high,

She glides through the day with a smile plastered on her face,

But when her other half stumbles in the sky,

She knows it’s time to resign,

To pass the responsibility onto her mischievous sister.

A thrush’s sounding call announces the coming of the twister,

Her own dear kin Celena.

Her beautiful peaceful light whom she toiled hard to transfigure,

From her sister’s twilight wrath,

Is now transformed again into its former warped and a wicked path,

Its creation made beautiful in the eye of Celena,

But disgraceful in Daystar’s.

The bird warns the critters of the kingdom to prepare for their impending slumbering submission with its cry,

Of the resignation of Daystar and the coming of Celena,

The maiden of mischief,

Empress of all things vicious,

Queen of the malicious,

And ruler of the twilight.

Like every other night,

Celena whistles for Loki,

Her faithful guardian and equally mischievous watchdog,

While casting her black starry night canvas with a misty thick fog,

To prepare for her night of merriment.

Two sisters reign as one,

Since the beginning of time it has been this way,

One that rules the time of light,

The other to keep watch over the wild beasts that surface in the night.

The question that remain to be answered is,

Who are we?