Of the Wolf and the Moon

On a full moon night she emerges from the shadows,

Mad and howling, on a hunt for her lunar lover.

A lone wolf; she drifts away from her pack

And towards the Eternal Drifter,

That sailor of the sapphire night, her elusive knight in silver armour.

Caught in a perpetual eclipse, Only dusk’s musk surrounds her in its sweet tang of all things fresh and fermenting.

Her life is nothing but a reflection of that glimmering opaque body above; lost and wandering through the seas of sky and earth.

Sweet moonbeams caress her milky skin as she dances wildly to the rhythms of her heart in the twilight.

Captivated, she leaps to the moon and breaks like the waves,

Crashing harder each time..

A simple consequence of mass and gravity, or, perhaps, of love and destiny?

The lustre of her Taj Mahal teases her, as she lays, shattered and shackled in a fort of blackness.

Her howls hush into whimpers and moans, she cannot accept that it is not meant to be…

At last, the material nature plays illusions to her favour,

For a pacifying passing or for ridicule? One may never know…

Death grips the wolf’s senses, assaulting her body and mind.

Her sad, starry eyes brim in a bitter acid soup, staining and blotching the vision of her white-marble heaven…

Till the buttery moon cracks and leaches,

Crumbling down and drizzling, as piercing shards and burning white lava upon her.

Alas, the material nature plays illusions to only one side’s favour,

For death came to the wolf as a bittersweet union,

Far, far from the violent separation,

Cradled forever in the Eye of the Moon.


© Copyright 2015-2016  A Cup of Strawberries

All Rights Reserved

Published in: on September 5, 2015 at 12:29 PM  Comments (2)  

2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. I think this is my favourite.


  2. Amazing!!!


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