The Moon and its virgin Companions,

Glare lovingly at me,

Like dearest Phoebe and her nymphs,

Casting down their  protective gaze.

The Moon and its countless guards,

Beam their faces at me,

Like Holy Christ and his myriads,

Covering me in a most pure haze.

As the Sun covers my Huntress,

And human light scatters dominions,

I let Hypnos blow his horn over me,

So I may see 

The Moon and its companion...

My eyes traced the garden, at the flowers, petals wrapped around eachother, vines swirling around the base of the garden and tightening against my wrists. I could feel thorns prick my wrists, the blood trickling out and the vines drinking it up, hungrily, feeding the flowers I never wanted to plant. I couldn’t move, but if I could it wouldn’t matter, for I had long ago given up on trying to escape...