speak to me, muse of my heart -
tell me where your vision lies
wrapped into dark voids that swallow
nations whole inside my mind
o, mother moon, caress my soul and
teach me where the blackthorn grows
to kiss the ebony waters, in the still
of endless, drifting night

nights, like fragments of shattered
memories, haunting dawn and dusk alike -
shadows of eventide brushing soft strokes
against the sky, pushing the sun to slumber
gentle moon, cold brilliance resonating from
thousands of unsung songs of hope, beautiful,
aloof and unforgiving, like shards of ice
embedded into soft, supple flesh

darkness swallows me whole, o muse, do not
abandon me while yet this image lingers -
submerged into icy blackness, unwilling to
break free or swim towards the bright white shore
moon will carry me home, into deep recesses of
feral, wild land - along beams of fractured light,
my mind is sheltered from the searing shards,
each splinter sharp and piercing the day...

it bleeds until there is no more light to give
and the last candle, my candle, is snuffed out

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Chakros, in the year 153 MA.