The Moon vs Death
There’s an orb
spinning in the gloom.
A crystal ball hanging by a thread,
Yet the analogy I speak of is not the sun,
Nor of a Universe widespread.
But a ball that would slip into the O,
Of the void in the chest of Death.
Melting evil quick as Summer snow,
With the blinding glimmer
Of a hairless head.
For he has the eye of a shark, Rolling paler than the stripe of a whale,
Deep as silver buttons in pocket’s dark, And loud as words when silence fails,
Words to be shaped into kooky clouds,
For lovers to observe in prompted shrouds.
This may seem a random verse,
Of jumbled reflections so perverse,
But let me tell you with all that said,
You cannot compare the Moon with Death.
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