Pale moon, pale stars,
merry twinkle, somber skies,
quiet as darkness feels to the eyes,
white and cold as marble hearts.
White as wedding's binding vow,
till death do we part...
till lonely is stark
in the chronicles of here and now.
White as paper bones to dry,
stripped by time, forbidden roam,
a picket fence of spirit's home,
it boasts its marrow where it lies.
White as winter's whispered knife,
courtyard of the little fed,
and tundra spashes forth it's red,
saying --once there had been life.
As red, red as rosebud lips,
and her deep sea eyes,
while his eyes hold her skies,
promising a child on her hip.
Such life, full as blue skied sun,
rolling in fields of spring lush,
shadows twined in sunset blush,
such passions! For life is but once...
And once is all it took, and takes,
to this love falls,
it crumbles walls,
the slip of the tongue's mistakes.
As promise, as secret, as black exchange,
a parsel of dodging shadows afright,
when trust is a fantasy, making lies right,
to ripen the sport of secret's game.
Tis a spell of dark on black peace or black rage,
but the black in the eyes where the light in unfurled,
and the black of imaginings where begins the dream's world,
are as black as the mark to end this page.