by Ryan Nardi
Through the mist atop the low mountain
I see a shimmer of silver light.
The clouds rolls on, but still the distance
seems to grow throughout the night.
Blackest shadow separates me,
endless miles, empty space.
Now, I kneel before the heavens
crowned with crescent gleaming grace.
Light reflected, shaped by shadows
crowns the Empress of the Night.
Queen of Morning,
Queen of Sorrow,
Queen of Spite.
Queen, I long to kneel before you,
kiss your feet and swear an oath.
Queen, I long to reach up toward you,
however high above you float.
I would leap up from the rooftop,
with all my hope and all my strength,
to try and catch the crescent safely,
or else to fall down to my death.
I could drink from silver moonlight
pooled within the crescent moon
and nourish me until forever,
and forever would still be too soon.
Crescent, you foretell the darkness,
and the coming of her absence.
But you promise that the turning
Earth will raise her from the ashes.
Crescent moon, I watch you wither,
threaten that the moon is gone.
But I know that darkest winter,
warms and melts in summer sun.
Posted on 07/18/2018
Copyright © 2019 Ryan Nardi