Made for the Moon.

 

Indifferent moon 

What right have you; 

To glow so bright;

To shine as you do? 

A billion hearts,

Meeting and breaking, 

Your dark gaze watches 

Never giving, never taking… 

Of human sorrows,

Nor of mortal joy; 

Your soul must be made

Of an unyielding alloy. 

The tides, they ebb and the flow 

At your will. 

Yet you remain unmoved 

Cold, deafening silence, still. 

Your pockmarked face 

Radiance-eclipsed; 

The odes to your beauty

Enunciated, never lisped. 

And when the shadows, 

They cloak your silver form 

Portents of evil,

Of desecration, of dark storm. 

Hecate’s powers in you, vested. 

This mystic aura remains, 

Aloof and untouched, 

By your surface stains… 

As the wolf howls,  

And the lovers sigh, 

The Wiccan raise their gaze, 

To their deity up high. 

Madness, they allude,

To the phases of the moon,

A barren celestial, 

With the power to make you swoon.