Moonlight Ride of the HorsemanDarkness hovers as a thick mist around,
Seeping into soft skin, penetrating light of Diana.
Upon the great mount, the White Horseman,
Mystic of ages, consul of secrets.
Ride upon the whispers of Silent Night,
In thy hand the grasp of souls.
And flowing mane of thy servant
Playing in tiptoe games with Wind.
Drink only of the raw dew does oneself,
Graceful droplets of the clean tree
In action of purity and sanctity.
To be clean of the ground thy tread,
Noiseless banter upon soft mud.
The ride is smooth as quicksilver,
Unattached to Their lonesome world
And yet still free from natures refuge.
Light prevails, upon darkness
That suffocates the wandering tract.
And fleeting glimpse of the ride,
Of one such as thee, blinds sight
A feeling of euphoric disillusion.
A pained uncertainty of sanity,
As illusion is the isle of Circe.
And still nameless stranger creeps.
Great black slender crept,
In silence upon splash of blood red.
Slowly to sink the
Said the Moth to the ButterflyYou say I'm a simple sort of insect.Said the Moth to the Butterfly10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Well, I suppose that that's all right.
I have simple wings and simple dreams,
And I only dream of flight.
You have those mosaics scribed on paper,
Razor-thin but as fragile as the air.
You dreamt you were an artist and
Inspired to put them there.
You say I'm a stupid kind of bug.
A lamp could distract me for hours.
Well, I'm awed by mundane miracles,
And I dream of mundane powers.
You have your migrations,
Streams of color flocking in the sky.
You dreamt you were a rainbow crossing
Through a dreamer's eye.
You say I'm just a moth,
Aspiring to nothing great.
I've only a few short days to live;
I've resigned my life to fate.
Well, I may never become a butterfly;
I don't pretend I can,
But at least I don't flutter away my time
Dreaming I'm a man.