The moon went away
One April night.
Her brilliant glow
Shining bright
Over a snowy desert plain,
Not a week before.
Blue night's shadow
Swept through the door
That opened into the realm
Of his heart,
Stealing the light and the laughter
That set him apart
From those who would
Shade him in the grey
Of their world.
The moon went away.
On her precious moonshine
He would drink no more.
While sipping crimson wine,
Drunken spirits
Laughed at him,
So raw his soul!
Chided him,
So open his heart!
With cruel intent
Those demons stole
That which made him an innocent,
That which kept him pure,
That which steered him clear
Of their world.
The moon went away,
Her spritely form,
So light, so fay,
So many nights had kept him warm
In a frostbitten forest,
With her moonbeam touch
Gliding across his skin.
Sometimes it was too much--
Electric--
Like lightning
From a thundering summer storm
Almost frightening
In its intensity
Which carried him away, out
Of their world.
The moon went away,
Her face eclipsed by the shadow
Of her joy enshrouded
By crimson sorrow.
The darkness forcing
Away the purist light
That drew and was his soul.
Until the September night,
When the darkness
That hid her face
From sight,
Passed into space,
Reminding him there remained truth
In what they could make
Of their world.