No longer do we look up at our brethren of the heavens.
We've become only aware of our own world.
Their eternal conflict is something we ignore.
We look away from the glittering armor of the soldiers of the night, the stars.
The white-gray ombre of clouds is the warriors of day marching to the battlefield.
The Lord Sun's brilliance is avoided.
Lady Luna's majesty is overshadowed.
Those who look up to the celestial plane for guidance experience its blessings and peace.
YOU ARE READING
Rambles of the Mind
PoetryBits that may never appear in my works, but wish to be expressed. Bits that spark from nothing it everything. Each one a thought or dream.
