Midnight Caller

Last quarter of Earth’s moon,
inflation for the cost of thoughts.
Night or morning never knew,
how sun would come to drop her jaw.
 
And holy light in shadows sprang,
some candles for the starry lover;
shooting gallantly at the hour
of the eve her spirit trodden. 

Darkness rises, his voice so somber,
she tries to speak and wish her wonder.
A touch, a kiss, a heart confined
pressed between such fragile time.

Her breath like fire, his words like rain
and dreams upon his chest do cave.
Asunder to this land of Nod,
at one with space and silent sky.

And oh, the beauty of illumination, the
soul-veiled whispers of phases rising.
A guidepost to the coming motions,
communion to the predawn orbit.