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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