Member-only story
poem
You lit the moon from its hearth
It showered light upon the earth
Basking in its afterglow
Lovers waste in shadow
Pretenders to the dawn
Pretenders to that gleaming throne
Enslaved by rustic deeds befallen
Augured mysteries — yet unformed
And drenched in that hoary light reborn
Entranced by love’s untutored heart
And blinded by daybreak’s delight
They set upon dark night’s collusions
With forlorn hope, a strange illusion
Adrift in their own choosing
Toward your sacred mantle thrown
‘Neath your feet, the wretched strewn
They count the days of their own ruin
Flung — to watch the setting sun
Cast out they watch the end of day
They dance among its setting rays
When darkness falls and earth decays
From high atop the exulted hill
The hearth still stirs, it’s working still
To set the plans in shifting sands
It fans the winds, and fall of man
Reflects the moon; calls the tune
Offers reprieve for a thousandth day
A say, a solution
Answers cast in absolution
Answers born in hoary gray
And questions born in shadow
