I walk the warmth-lit meadows of life at a time
just to abide under the ghostly shine of your charm.
Darkened clouds robbed you from me tonight
as I curled up in the arms of winter unabashed.
I shall bathe in the January rain of your wake
and purify my being from the illusion of the light.
You shall still enact the verity of the stars
and lull the thorn in sight,
that beauty be manifest through the veins of soul delight.
Embrace me and intone the rite of sprite
in spite of the graveyard upon which your face is cast.
I’ll dance amidst the rings of silvery might
if you face and remind me of that which came to pass.
Venture into the hidden paths, my distant confidant.
Your opposite child grins upon the solar crown of midnight.
The Nocturnal Versifier 