Heaven or Hide (Short Poem)

One day shining pretty , as light as this ditty, a Princess went out for a strut.
Her hair was of colours. She was known to others, by mostly,  the Sun on her butt.

She moved and she raised it. The ponies they praised it, that Sun as it shone on her side.
But arguments show, as some stallions may know, over worship of Heaven or Hide.

"The Sun is our mother, there's truly no other!"  Some ponies did state in their claim.
"To think thoughts so vulgar, would lead you to smoulder, your actions alone then to blame!"

"The Sun is our maiden, our duty to aid in her journeys as much as we may!"
"If that leads to sortie with our little horsey, why stop us from having our day?"

As squabbles grew bigger, the tension at trigger, another mare entered the fray.
Her wings were of chitin, her teeth fanged for bitin, and put on a lovely display.

Worship me, Stallions.  Join my battalions.  Take me as ruler obscene!
I'll give you your loving, but no pushing or shoving.  I am, after all, your grand Queen.

Then came the great schism twixt prism and jism, the stallions each picking their fare.
The Stallions of White with Celestial might, the rest caught in their dark master's stare.

Time saw the Sun prosper, their children did foster, the Light had held true all the way.
The lustful had worse, and befell a great curse, their bodies and minds lost in sway.

Their skin began manging to turn them to Changeling, the holes of their hooves bored by mites.
Their wills were defeated, their hearts made decieted, they lost all their hope, all their Light.

Carapace shining, they started their mining, the Hivemaster's work to be done.
They toiled for ages, trapped in self-made cages, forgotten by Light and the Sun.