In half-light's clutch, a sylvan queen,
Her crown and heart, betwixt, between.
One half in starlight bathed and pure,
The other, night's own dark allure.

A visage split by silent fray,
Where dawn and dusk hold equal sway.
Her eyes, a duel of sun and shade,
Within their depths, light parades.

Her stand, a stalk of twilight's make,
Reflects a soul 'neath star and flake.
A struggle wrapped in silence deep,
Where whispers of the cosmos seep.

Half-cloaked in mystery's dark veil,
Her story's writ in starry braille.
A dance of contrast, bold, yet sleek,
Her fractured grace, of which stars speak.