The Moon

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Follow me little
Ones,
Do not stray into the darkness.
Instead, come with me,
An archangel ,
Into the purest light during my
Brightest phase.
Ah, but do not look directly into
My eyes.
For they are craters black as tar,
And as cold as a lonely man.
They, my eyes, have never seen true
Sunlight.
Oh, but I may be a demon,
but not one of evil you see.
I roam among the jewels in the dark sky,
That you call stars.
I feel as pure as light,
But a half you cannot see,
Feels dark.
The wolves, they all
Know, what hides behind my open face.
They scream and scream all through
The night,
Trying to tell others
Of what they
See.





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