When the Sun Dies

When you appear

I want to be cliche

And wail,

All must despair for the moon is here!

Here with her hollow light

Tattooed on my mind

Are faces

Masks cast aside

But

Not forgotten.

Free to appear

At the sight of her

Pock scared face.

Hark now, to her

Churning the muddied waters,

Cast aside thine

Logic and structure

Sanity has no power here.

She is God.

Never ending, never fading,

Only ebbing and flowing,

Revealing all that has lain

Peacefully in the dark.

May you pray for

The Sun’s return and

The recession of her

Henchman,

Truth.