Knife's Edge

The new moon is of a chilled northern night. It is unseen as it fluxes the sea. On the Midnight edge of this sea there rests a graveyard, whose ethereal voice is hushed by the sterling glitter of the Winter sky. The graveyard's solitude is a wish that slips away. The tombs have missel tints, host the souls of dark storm clouds that block the deep heavens, who knife the tumultuous oceans with searing streaks of light; who hold the Moon until it is full.