The Moon

September 1, 2009
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How rash is our pride
To scorn the single orb
The light in ebony

Our cradle of diamonds
A namesake to each
Trampled upon by greed

Where no one has a right
To claim another world

A demonic plague of mining lords
Re-shaping what is forged
Establishing value to a priceless erne

For one dark night
When this great orb dies
What is the nameless owner to do

When it has no insurance policy?

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