the ecstasy of the female form

In splendour's grip, where passion's flowers bloom,
A form of ecstasy, yet laced with gloom.
Her beauty, like the night's enchanting moon,
Doth sway the souls of men, a potent boon.

Her eyes, a deep abyss where secrets dwell,
A gaze that beckons like a mystic spell.
Her lips, the gate to rapture's sweetest hell,
Where many a brave heart has bid farewell.

In her embrace, a paradise is found,
Yet in its depths, the seeds of doom are sown.
For she, the fairest, with her laurel crowned,
Doth wield a power that is all her own.

A siren's call, a whisper in the dark,
Her form, a vessel of the sacred spark.
Yet beware, for she is no docile lark,
Her touch, a flame that leaves an eternal mark.

So sing we now of beauty's fatal draw,
A form that fills the heart with awe and flaw.
For in her presence, men do break their law,
And at her feet, their very souls they thaw.