Blue Moon

 
 
 
The moon is blue and dreaming
Cry all my children to sleep
In conquest dreams we deem to rule
In darkest halls we plot in torment
In empty caverns we deify glory
Dance, again, dance for freedom
Dance my children to sober dreaming
Of valor and honor and color and pain
Dance and cry and strive again
To hold a mass and state the Name
Call forth my demons from sleep
The songs of old and runes of yore
The empty words we’ve learned to score
The high and low and even
Listen and you’ll hear them moan
It’s dark and dirty here below
The emptiness can drive you
To a place you ought not go
You’ll die in horror screaming
Cry all my children to sleep
The moon is blue and so are you
You’ll hear its song so clearly
And discount it all to dreams
And when you wake, you’ll wonder
Why you’re screaming
Why you ache in places you can’t feel
Why your work and world don’t seem so real
Why the voices in your head are screaming
And you’ll count the phases of the moon
And wander in the night without direction
And keep a silent vigil in your secret heart
And turn quickly round the corners,
Lest someone see you
And when the curse is cast, you’ll hear it spoken
Without bothering to look for the absent speaker
And when the moon has turned its face
To other dreamers
You’ll see a vision overpower the sky
And answer . . . when you ask it “why?”
The moon is blue and dreaming.
 
 
Mushroom teacups sail in stardust
withered laurels snap in dustwhirls
tethered horsemen roam the skyways
soldiered remnants hiss through brushwoods
All is soon made clear.
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