Friday, April 14, 2023

Children Of The Weeping Moon

Children Of The Weeping Moon
© Surazeus
2023 04 14

These days the children of the weeping moon 
know nothing of the way rainbows express 
religious faith through emptiness of now 
by touching flow of water beyond death 
till names attach themselves to our frail heads 
as if time knows the road we want to walk. 

We stand alone in shadows of dead trees 
just far enough apart to see soft light 
of cold unblinking eyes in silent gloom 
because we understand why wind reveals 
how words in books deceive our eyes with dreams 
that hide the real world we refuse to see. 

Down by the boggy creek of haughty toads 
we run with wild abandon of free arms 
to imitate how fractal ravens fly 
straight through unshattered mirror of desire 
before the second coming of the wolf 
who makes the clown dance in our lonely church. 

Yet every morning on the signless road 
the castle ghost decides what hat to wear 
that best presents the best side of his mind 
because the blue horse in the grocery store 
remembers how nuclear missiles are made 
from bones of angels in the sad mailbox. 

With laughter ringing in the ivory tower 
the children of the weeping moon contrive 
to fool the castle ghost with clever trick 
enough for dancing skeletons to find 
red diamond of his heart on misty moor 
where the blue horse searches for her lost ring. 

So when the wizard toad on mushroom throne 
sings ancient hymn to praise the star-eyed girl 
we gather in the ring of stones at dawn 
to watch the sun explode across the sky 
at sacred moment of eternal now 
when she appears and sings to the Glow Cloud. 

But just as she raises the Holy Grail 
to utter blessing on the broken world 
the hungry clown thrusts spear into her heart 
so our fairy queen screams in agony 
as she lies bleeding in the daffodils 
that drink her blood as wind erases time. 

Alone beside her body on red plain 
I kneel with head bowed in cold silver rain 
till she dissolves into the wordless Earth 
so I still feel her heart beat with hard wind 
as I walk nowhere to the howling sea, 
last soul from children of the weeping moon. 

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