The Moon Became a Sword
A Monotetra
The moon became a sword of light,
piercing blackened veil just right,
Light saber be gleaming delight,
to my delight, to my delight.
From heavenly clouds the light did rest,
upon the waters during their quest,
no need to ask of moon her best,
we’ve passed her test, we’ve passed her test.
Upon lakes shimmering, silver folds,
angel fire sat in gold repose,
then like a lonely, winter rose,
relieved our throes, relieved our throes.
Angelic beacon, golden one,
shared by both the moon and sun,
light of gold and citrine spun,
by greatest one, by greatest one.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2019
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