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Segment 1



Under the moon I do the darkest of deeds,

To send another man to Heaven,

I pick his pocket.



As he ascends, I must pay my way

For the boatman.

Coins and locket.



It has been two years to the day

Since I have found myself

Under that moon.



I must confess, but to whom?

Shall I be condemned by laws

before The Almighty?



I hear stories of a river north

That listens to whispers

And carries them forth.



I must find this river and confess

I must speak my truth

And free myself.



My chest weighs heavy as this

Horse and carriage of remorse

Trample me and perish.



I reach the river, foggy in mind

The sediment, thick with truths

It runs with haste downstream.



A whisper floats along the fog

"Speak it below"

I wince and nod.



I kneel down, smelling the murk

And mist, pressing my lips

Against the surface.



I lean further and drown my face

In such cold, cold trust that

My confession flows with haste.



I speak immersed, beneath the cover

Of such a moon, my secrets sink

To the depths, swept by current.



I fear this river is too well known

That this bed I have sewn

Wicked weeds have grown.



I dry my face, my scarf now soaked

This deed I have done,

This confession I’ve spoke



Drifts down stream and out of sight.

Cloaked and muddied,

I walk home this night.





Segment 2



Cold is this day when the frost

Has covered our fields

And the river has slowed.



The fish can be seen through the ice

Feeling safe they swim

Waiting to be snatched up.



They tell stories of foul fish

Tasting rotten and dead

Though they are moments old.



The youth love fish from the river,

They eat it up until

They have had their fill.



They begin to foster illness in heart

The devil’s sins begat man, and

The girls turn courtesan.



Where does this come from?

Why has our river town soured?

Whence has this evil poured?



We eat fresh fish, and fresh grain

Yet this evil is around again

Always under this moon.
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