Poem – Page 19 – A (wise) man of two faces

The Moon XVIII

Beasts howl at The Moon,
madness flowing in their blood,
eyes turned from the truth.

Draw, step, stride,
with confidence and pride.
Oh hero, divinity,
best of humanity.

Your pain at length
forged into strength;
you’ve conquered your rage
to take center stage.

And even when you lose your clashes,
you rise from the ashes,
returning to the field,
and refusing to yield.

And in the wake of your blade,
your sorrows are unmade.

The Star in heaven,
floating above our affairs,
smiles beyond our ken.

Fossil fuels
are not cruel –
it’s the callous hands
that stain sacred lands
who are evil’s tools.

The Tower will fall;
hubris only knows one end,
and cannot see it.

The Devil knows us well,
is a hell of a salesman,
and is relentless.

Remember
love’s embers
once burned bright,
and lit the night,
before their slumber.

All things have their place.
Take care not to stay too long,
all have their time too.

There’s no reason
for the season;
laugh and play
the day away,
difficulties easin’.

The reaper rides forth
to do that which must be done
on a bone-white horse.