I rise as quickly as you set,
A perfect cycle, all ends met.
We are just alike, you and I,
No matter whom is scraping sky.
Nonsense moon. Don't give me that.
You live for bringing pain.
But I give shelter to those of night!
The snakes, the moths, the frogs.
Within your harshest of rays,
they are merely hidden in their bogs.
Nonsense. You spout lies. They all thrash about the fray.
The desert snakes adore when I beam my harshest rays.
Only when they've sprung from their stone-cold stone-slate caves.
In the winter they fast.
You bring the harshest of The Snow.
Every winter is the same
Their heartbeats turn to nearly zero.
That is why they nest, you see,
A protection from the cold brought on by me.
This harsh Snow is not my intention.
Its just the purpose I have been given.
The blazing Sun had enough.
This suffering won't do.
It bore its mighty solar flare
And split its half in two.
The ground began to shake. The mountains being made anew.
The mantids ran to hide, the squirrels, the geese, the vultures too.
The daybreak upon them once again.
To live life is to win.
Forever shall we be content
This suffering has met its end.
But what the giant hadn't realized would soon begin to creep in.
A gaping maw fissured the ground as eyes began to live within.
What The Sun thought was a noble attempt...
was only balance unkempt.
Our moon, cleaved in two, had began to seep its innards.
What our sun was trying to prevent.....
Had begun to creep on inwards.
Our once great moon, melting in its pit of eyes,
No longer makes its snow fall down
But up into the skies.
The Sun, still up above, lives its life in denial.
I'd rather die a million deaths than even think to reconcile.
The rays no longer reach us here, the darkness is our blight.
The Snow tears out every color leaving only black and white.
The Trees here bow as if they weep.
No sunlight or water to keep.
Though they wish to die, they are not allowed to rot.
No. Everything is normal, and everything is fine. To simply die is something they cannot.
Legend tells of a hooded figure
His stature described as....peculiar.
He makes friends with the Ravens of the night.
Everywhere he travels, so does our blight.
He knows of a blade, he says
A blade that bears one eye.
Pulling it from stone is the key to our demise.
To close, I have a question.
A rather simple blight.
If there is no dark to bear,
Then what's the meaning of the light?
