“What the Sun Denies, the Moon Divines”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

This light that burns
Through bone-hued slats
As serpentine sun
Sheds its pretense
And glissades through
Fey reeds of twilight
Cuts razor-lines
Across eddying galaxies
Of dust motes
Infinities of minutiae
Indifferent spirals
A feckless requiem
For rise-and-fall futility
Ley lines annulled
As monuments crumble
Broken cities dissolve
In caustic deserts
Of ebon sand
Lifeless seas
Heave and sigh
And evaporate
Under red alien suns
There is nothing here
For light to illumine
Nothing remains
To set eyes upon
No ear-to-ground echoes
No cryptic communiques
Just dust and rust
And eternity

This light that chills
Through paneless frame
As bulbous moon
Worms slug-like
Across the night-void
On star-trail secretions
Casts a blue-white pall
Upon the multi-verse
Of frozen motes
A languid lethargy
Of sub-cosmic energy
Dust specks in moonlight
Aglow in spectral hues
Shadows of ancient arcana
Flicker in surreal death-light
Tumbled monuments
Glimmer restlessly
Under dead stars
Ley lines shimmer
In quicksilver urgency
There is something here
That hovers
Beneath the spectrum
Felt not heard
Sensed not seen
Sun-shunned
Lunar-laved
Permeates bedrock with
Profane vibrations
Sets somnolent cities
Thrumming
Imbues oceans with
Eldritch dreams
Moon-spawned
Omniscient
And eternal