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The Sun and the Moon
With curious and bewildered eye
a man weeps for the two stars broken.
He sits wonton and wondering why.
In darkness floats a silvered token.
By morning, in rides a golden horse,
the fiery goddess has spoken.
Little does the man know the true course.
An ancient bargain had gone awry,
sacred unity shattered by force.
Pillars to dust, overhead the sky,
the tale is forgotten but not lost.
Though aeons pass it will never die.
When asked meekly, much can still be heard.
Go to those actors of the weighty absurd.
The maddened dervishes roll and flail
for they are driven. The light of day
speaks through them with an embittered wail.
The masked goddess of black coal and clay,
outward jewels and guarded virtue,
hides darkened venom and dire decay.
Her painted lips and eyes, the bards drew
for a bedazzled crowd, but unseen
and unknown was bitterness overdue.
The sun shone with spite and jealous mien.
Compliments brought pestilence to light.
Behold! There was a crack in the queen.
Her blue-eye'd sister was her bane.
Linked together they were, pride a chain.
This young femme was a different sort,
her visage was shadow and eyes glass,
with a softer step by all report.
Her mask was not ivory or brass
but meekness and innocence not lost.
No wonder her twin sought to harass.
The younger girl was covered in frost.
Tongue often silent and presence rare
she was forgotten and never crossed.
Unfortunates, beholden to compare,
dodged the sun's rays. Worshipers went blind
to find peace and solace in night's stare.
Such was the way of the younger one,
that poor doomed maiden, forever shunned.
In the old days a giant was wed.
His aims were never to be undone.
Such is how the dance came to be spread.
A wager was cast, the damage done.
The two sisters were called to perform
With that, the competition was begun.
The sun in her mask pranced like a storm.
Sprightly she floated, aloft and proud,
but her footing was lost, her gown torn.
The moon then followed. Slowly she bowed
like a shadow. Her prance was noble,
but whimsy was lost, wind to a cloud.
With all ended, the sun sister cried,
the moon wept, but fear caused a divide.
Even now, the family is split.
Farmers see one, hunters the other.
Both are lost but neither will submit.
For them it is cruel, but another
tragedy weighs upon our poor world.
Lost is love and light, our great mother.
Like the shattered sisters, they are twirled
into chaos. We seek only peace,
but the war banners are unfurled.
Until all is lost, nothing will cease.
We count this our curse, but also a
blessing. Let us not seek our release.
Bemoan our fate or see the sublime.
To either, we are amongst the divine.
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