Battle of the Blood Moon
Battle of the Blood Moon
Recklessness invited this total eclipse,
Carl Jung’s shadow had tightened its grip.
On a weak, feeble ember, refusing the debt,
Mortally glowing in relentless regret.
But embers remember, darkness to light,
With appraisal, reflection, and owning the plight.
The fire barely warm, the soul full of mourn,
Battling humility and shame, whilst drowning in scorn.
The crimson photons on the pale orb adorn,
The new moon moves into its own quantum form.
The battle of the Blood Moon; Unbroken, Re-born.
Restoring the circle, shattered and broke,
Takes courage and strength to resurrect hope.
It’s all an illusion, this chemical confusion;
It warns of the end of our molecular infusion.
It’s an unwitting addiction, a delusion of fiction,
Take me back to clear skies, and my time pre-addiction.
The implosion atomic.
The shock astronomic.
The sky fell down, all around it was toxic,
Previous values shamefacedly now paradoxic.
This awakening is late, I cannot express
How I lived without eyes to see this mess.
External forces help check dark momentum,
This insidious inertia that’s making my head numb,
Not a moment too soon, The Nick of Time 2,
We will persevere, with sadness — not beer.
And like the writings of Watts: the presence is now.
Three fleeting seconds of time to choose the mind’s vow.
Tomorrow is possible. No hurdle too high.
Twin flames burn eternal; they just cannot die.
The Blood Moon anew, Clean without waste.
Just its crimson hue, And timeless space.
What once felt like chance, now fate takes its place,
Two atoms colliding, a molecular embrace.
The unseen auroras find their familiar place,
Together again to live with grace.
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