I light the dark,

alluding to dawn's break.

Softening the fear, the trepidation,

of one’s yearning desperation.

I light the dark,

a soft glow in crescent folds,

waxing across winter's colds.

Torch in the depths one holds.

First quarter tells time.

A passing of days, I’m the mime.

Mimicking their shadows, their being,

illuminating their fleeing.

Running crisp, the breeze whistles,

whistles their tune, amid the trees’ bristles.

I hum my melody, far above,

quivering my beacon like a dove.

Full moon illuminates the hour of dread,

tugging my strings, hurdling the dead.

I watch their graves, lives slipping by,

I cannot help but spy.

Down below the humans keep,

their dreams are mine to reap.

Trampling their lies, their mind’

wrought with the horrors of mankind.

Third quarter strikes true,

my eyes wide amid the dew.

Nature's dew, her tears trickling,

trickling down, the rivers rippling.

As I reach my descent,

life wanes and longs to be spent.

Spent loving, lusting, caring,

in a world so daring.

New and dim, my final form,

I slip and dip as I perform.

Waiting, watching the world pass,

in hues of greed, fury, and glass.