The moon swoops down like a sickle unspoiled
To harvest the twilight and sever the soil
Darkness drips like sulphur and oil
To lie in the ground with the tears of its toil
Dusk has dwindled in the ration of hours
Watch it flee and call it a coward
Grim procession of grey that scours
The turning hemisphere as it devours
But don't look away
Don't turn aside
Fix your gaze
With broken eyes
Stars march forth like so many men
Phosphorescent now and again
Shadows casting shadows when
Slumber calls out like a friend
Your face tells of a distance unspanned
Crossing the hollows in my hands
Silhouettes in a single strand
Pilgrims leaving their faraway lands
But don't look away
Don't turn aside
Fix your gaze
With broken eyes