Cycles
Summertime is Gone
Summer's fertile touch of life puts itself to sleep.
The radiant clouds shower us in their frozen weep.
The raven caws outside the door,
Miasma is seeping through the floor.
We cannot hold out anymore,
For summertime is gone.
Winter's touch as cold as ice
Envelopes this world in it's chill,
Growing ever colder still.
Iron are the shackles that bind
The gentle warmth we leave behind.
Silver is the ice that devours
Every fern and every flower.
The call has been heard loud and clear.
The time for winter is finally here.
The raven's caw outside the door.
The miasma seeping through the floor.
That gentle fire may shine no more,
For summertime is gone.
Lunatic
I am in love with the Moon.
Some call me a lunatic;
my lunar tick resembles a wolf howl,
a primal hunger well below higher thought.
I monitor her cycles,
transfixed by her luminescence.
My eyes form cataracts to
mimic her milky presence;
the way she dances across darkened skies
mesmerizes me every night.
She graced me with her presence
once. I normally see her
in my dreams, but I got lucky –
for three whole months,
she was absent from her celestial throne.
The world around us plunged into chaos,
but our sphere of influence
was heavenly. Bodies colliding,
our breaths shared a rhythm
the tides would envy.
I lost track of time
gazing deep into her every night;
her full phase charged my beating heart,
its tempo crashing heavier than oceans
upon the surf.
Slowly, the skies began howling
for the High Priestess – the sea
needed a master, and Gaia
missed her mother.
I could tell she didn’t want
to leave me; I noticed my own desperation
reflected on her pale surface.
Her ascension was beautiful to behold,
but did little to relieve the weight in my chest.
Maybe our romance couldn’t last forever –
I am still in love with the Moon.
I will always be a lunatic,
whose howls shake the stars
held within my own verse.
I quiver like the restless ocean,
awaiting my true love’s return
with my toes dipping into the surf.
Cire Luey Freemind