The Moon cried an onyx for me
knowing that in spac I'm free
looking for the right answer of life
because I know where I belong

I looked up in question at the stars
trying to figure out who you are
I saw my tears in the moon's reflection
and know that there is some fear in my eyes

I love you so much my heart aches
but the fear is building inside me
please try and understand
I'm the product of the Moon
and please it is too soon

Deep in the darkest woods down the screaming lake lives a king of the unseelie fae. Hair golden like the sun and eyes grey as storm. He walks as man with powerful magic in his hand. Thunder rumbles when he's mad and leaves fall upon his command covering the slain who died in his name. He goes by many names and titles this changeling king of fae I'll carry his name to my grave. His beauty my eyes has laid and in his service my heart will stay.

In a vision, so true,
Almost as real as you,
Upon your skin, I swear,
I swear, I saw their kiss
The feuding pair,
Light and dark, locked in bliss
On your exquisite ebony skin.
I saw them sue for peace.
And upon your soft black lips
The lovers, they drank each other in
Through long, moaning, drawn-out sips
Though I know, God might call it sin,
Heaven, I'm sure, has never known,
Such harmony as did live on ebony skin
When light wore shadow
For a wedding gown
And sworn foes lay together

Son of the sun, my old foe,
Why? why do you hate me so?
Persecuting me across all time
Like every breath I take is a crime.
Light may shine on all beautiful things
But it was I, Shadow, who hid heaven's sins!

I clothed the Cosmos' nakedness,
In a garment of unrelenting blackness,
No peeping Tom could claim he sees,
Our Father's shame and insecurities
I am but life's impenetrable vault
Hoarding worlds and all their deeds’ revolt

As night pulls down its wild dark curtains
And heavy eyelids drop lazily,
I ponder with spider-like loomed shadows,
Thoughts torture my broken, weary soul.

Everything around my room plays tricks;
Shadows with shattered hearts wander,
Carrying bloody, slaughtered dreams,
All howl, moan in pain, "that's insane, that's insane."

I seek a way out, is there no escape?
The door's locked with heavy chains.
Windows, it seems, are all covered with tar,
Behind the sill, bars add weight.

I squeak open the rusty door
and moist morning air comes pouring in
just like so many times before.
Time another day begins,

A couple steps onto the weathered deck
and grey squirrels start to bark at me.
I shrug my shoulders and stiff neck
in the shadow of a huge oak tree.

I blink and a deer simply appears.
It stops, stomps feet and stares at me
then drops it head without a care.
He walks away ignoring me.

The vibrancy of spring is in the air;
and the dark brown shells that protect
against winter’s growthless realm
vibrates again, mothered by a soft sun.

And though there is joy all around me
my heart does not lift up. My soul carries
on its back a weight that drags me down.
A weight that seems to stifle all growth.

The buoyancy of a ballon is the lightness
of the gas that fills it, so that it descends
up to the heavens. The gas has not filled,
my spirit has not sparkled soul’s buoyancy.

Upon the Land of Imagery I land, Oh,
In search of endless mystery.
I pick its ripening fruits, to grow
With its seeds the poetry tree.

I've toured around for years its highs
For there's more ... a poets call,
Some fruits delight the tired eyes,
Some sing, some drawl and squall.

I've seen the cream, sour and sweet;
They trigger up tremendous arts.
Some soft and silky, they gently treat,
While others hard as stony hearts.

On Imagery Land go find me,
Painting pieces of poetry.

It's almost dawn, I open the door
and let the air rush in
Fresh and cool, I don't need more
the sun soon rises; an extra win.

A few steps onto the old wooden deck
and squirrels start to bark at me
I shrug my shoulders and my neck
in the shadow of the giant oak tree.

A deer appears from somewhere afar
then stops and strangely stares at me
I thought that is quite bizarre;
it turns and walks carelessly.

Punching away shadows, shapes
Back were they came from, from the street
Lights smothering the Inky abyss and pockets
Above the silk black blanket
A sinister grin from a ghostly moon
that changed its shape
from a horn to a circular glow

Punching away shadows, shapes.
Back where they came from, from the gritty street
Lights smothering the pockets of odor with glare
Above the black, silk blanket
A sinister grin from the ghostly moon
that changed its shape
from a horn to a circular glow