Moon Wrought Prayer

Sprinkle my eyes with faery dust.
Let me sleep forever.
Manse of symbolic images,
quests much more real than life.
Moving in a trance.
Magickal grace in the wave of a hand,
the easy turn, the arabesque.
I don’t even see you, just dots and dashes.
It’s so much better this way.
No raging battles, no violent clashes.
No wondering why adoration
forgets me.
Lost in enchantment.
One foot in front of the exquisite other.
Like butter.
Like blessing.
They say the good die young,
as if this were proof of injustice.
I say we each deploy on mission.
Once triumphant,
psyches rejoice in victory,
celebrate, advance to home.
.
.
.
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