I wrote this poem for a contest, and tied for 1st place. I have since edited it, and I hope you guys like it.







Night Sky:

They tell us to go,
"On with the flow!" with this world that turns: cooling
our spirits that burn like our mother's core, That
pulses with rage as she gazes, trembling with
white hot longing at her lunar child just out
of range. She keeps her molten tears in her heart.
Her pulsing, burning, crying core of a heart.

Moon's silver light coats Earth's surface
as she turns away from the lunar crowned night sky.
Her perfect jewel placed too high by the reach of
greedy human hands. Moon dances for Earth in her
celestial cell. Beautiful, but damning. The light bathes
the night. She looks down at her mother to begin the
inspection of the infection.

Confused souls feeling out of place on
this rock they "own". They call her home.
As one is dispelled from the herd,
he limps to solitude. Sweet,
organic solitude. Where no bulbed light violates
the darkness, and no artificial voice to bother his ears.

With rustic emerald eyes, he trails the swan that flies:
It moves with such grace that his wings copy the beats of
the land's heart, kissing the stars that fly with him.
Dancing with her royal lunar highness in her
celestial cell. The beat of his wings blows the stars free.

The stars fall like snowflakes on winters eve.
They rest in the images of legions past.
Our histories in the divine text of the sky.

A requiem shall be chanted for the tails shining in the night.

I know I still got a lot of work to do on this, but I'll fix what I can for now.