The Lady of the Night

I stood watchful under the blanket of night,

the grass cold against my heels,

the sweet fragrance enticing me

over to the willow; there shaded under,

Lady of the night-

made to bloom in the dark.

Screams, fused with howling winds,

over the tree, terror grew, like unkempt vines;

the warning hoot of the owl was heard

as she began to whisper to the sky.

The pain, the wounds, the sorrows

The Sky embraced her with open arms,

wound a necklace of shimmering stars around her neck,

Encircling her around a sheet of darkness,

He had done the same to the Moon

each night, cradling it, consuming it

into the silent void.

And like the moon she, too, let it swallow her up-

bit by bit the sky possessed her lustre,

till the murky black made her gasp

like a mute nightingale struggling to break free

from the inky mist-

around her neck the shackles of stars glimmered-

glimmered like the crescent moon,

her beacon of hope;

the moon had battled with the shadowy pitch,

unbound itself from the suffocating terror,

returningto its silvery glow

Now, it was her turn to shine in the darkness, the flower amongst fallen trees.

The Lady of the Night.