Apr. 30, 2010
Lonesome is the night
When the moon is full and the clouds are dark
Blinding rays stain the murky haze
Like paint grazed by brush, a wild painter’s abandon daubed
Yet nary a star dot thy skies
The howling winds that freeze the skin and rattle the bones
Retreating vengeance of winters’ twilight
The deep pools that are my eyes
Saddened by the beauty upon its gaze
Oh piteous sight, sorrowful and void
Through my window you wallow, calling forth my curtains dry thy gloomy face
The splendor that is you, O Moon
Reminds me of my own melancholy
For the fates that gave thee your glory
Are the same that imprisoned you to the cold solitary dark.
To dance and shine only with thy virtue alone; forever and always.
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