Poetry By A Traveller

Moondance

The shouts of the moon calling your name,

bright and clear.

It misses our dance as I miss our love,

this repleted my heart with hate.

My lovely moondancer, why have you left so early?

Or am I the one who has stayed too late?

Your delicate hands intertwine with mine,

your head upon my chest.

If the moon has a fragrance,

it is as beautiful as this of your hair.

Left, left, right, I twirl you around,

this is our moondance, beneath the full moon, 'neath the stars,

then we both fall to the ground.

Your laughter echoes through our love;

This our love, our lovely love,

which even the gods above,

will never have or near.

This I thought, so I thought,

till the moon, one day, disappeared.

The moon returned, but my dancer was gone,

stolen by the gods,

for they knew that this our lovely love was more heavenly,

than even the heavens they were.

The moon returned, but my dancer did not,

stolen by the demons,

for they knew that this our lovely, lovely love was deeper,

than even the hells they were.

The beams of the moon rained upon me,

Silver and cold.

The sound of the wolves crying for you,

Filled my soul with pain.

My lovely moondancer,

my graceful Moondancer,

will we ever moondance again?

I lay on the dew soaked grass,

Watching the lonesome moon pass.

My heart feels alone,

my love now lays in her grave.

I try to moondance alone,

but the shouts of the moon

and the cries of the wolves,

fill my heart and my soul

with hate and with pain,

for this I pumped,

the poison,

into my lonely, lonely veins.

The tears from my eyes were happy and sad,

for now I will meet in the land of the dead,

my lovely moondancer,

my graceful Moondancer,

and we will moondance again.