The Moon hides
when it is clouded
by the smoke of dying fire and
the death of a new beginning.
Stars have heard our voices
and weep rain with us,
watering the corpses
with the cry of merciful gods.
The thump, thump
of beating hearts
moan away the deafening quiet.
Then somewhere, a rocket:
I smile when the red wings
of a phoenix pierce through
the suffocating vaccuum
of the night.
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A retake on the epic-feely style. I hope I don't suck this time?
