Your Pearl of Hope and Peace
is this night a blooded
Harvest moon, child. No claret
rose in Night's tresses
am I, nor the keeper of dragons,
sigils and eldritch incantations,
nor a harbinger of cosmic
wrath and damnation.
I do not blush for shame, nor
bleed my anguish, nor am I with
rage afire; Earth's shadows
I bear this night, my white seas
and plains tainted carmine,
my ivory face eclipsed, for I align
this moment with the god
and goddess, that man may see
his deepest self.
A crimson glass am I this sacred
hour upon a dark vault,
bound by the Red of Life or Death,
after man's own choice.
The spirit's joy would he perceive
upon my sanguine sphere who
preserves his fellow man;
an ocean of blood confronts one
who spills his kindred's own.
My form wears your
© 2015 Lily's Verse
Image source: thenaturalistscorner.com