BLOOD MOON

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 

soul's Harvest.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: thenaturalistscorner.com