William Kinard | + Follow Poet |
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Tale From the Moon

The reflection of the sun
Gives light to the moon
Through the twilight of time
Shall he heal his wound
No more the world in his head
Within its walls he was dead.
 
So fall into the swells of his imagination 
And swim with the waves from his creation
Along with whipping winds of persuasion
Blowing swifly across a magic sea
Sail away with him to this isle of the free.
 
Upon arrival so he found 
No cherubs playing music
No ripping tides, not even a sound
Only the flying chariot from his dream
And above the moon holding her crown
With all his heart, he spoke to her from a far
She said, "I hear your fervent cry
Oh warrior poet take your dream and fly
I give you the map that has charted each star
Showing Zion, in the land of "Leo del Mar."
 
So he took the chariot from his dream
Flying into the cosmos, not a moment too soon 
Along with slipping reigns of sanity
And only aid of light from the moon  
Shall he ride through storms of unsurity
And with the twilight of time heal his wound 
The destination marks a new theme
Where he sings new arias upon a lucent lune
"Remember me with each falling moonbeam;
Forget your sorrows with each passing tune."

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