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Queen of the Harvest Moon
---~} Queen of the Harvest Moon {~---
Part One: Sorrowful Queen
In sorrow, reigns: a blessed queen; for others tell tales of her fall…
And mark her as a being accursed, telling such tales to one and all.
But she is regal even in exile, though queen she be of dark shades!
I tell her tale a different way, for I have walked in her misty glades.
Her mercy is not reserved for the wicked, but only for those pure,
And so my heart was judged of old, when I was asked for more…
In such regard I came to see, the beauty of that angel fallen of light.
But never in glory diminished was she, her fairness existing to spite,
Those powers that laid low her first estate, and robbed her throne!
I had embraced all that they feared, ere I was given flesh and bone.
No darkness fills my heart with terror, for I have seen Hell in entire,
And the corrupt that gnash their teeth, below, bathed in ghostly fire.
In the palace of the queen I do not see them, for therein is a peace,
Kept by pacts long unknown to mortals, that only gods may cease.
Starless are the spaces betwixt the distant planets I once tread on,
Black as the eyes of she whom I sing of here, but for a distant sun!
Nameless is she as the moon of this world, unknown in alien clime,
Where others names are spoken of, in languages of the inner mind.
How different was my aspect in those realms, than that I do wear,
In this guise in which I have endured as even gods must now bear.
Part Two: Between the Gulfs
Oh ye men and women who long to journey to the farthest galaxy:
Do not look there for thy salvation, for that way lies: only tragedy.
I was there, beyond the scope of mortal seeing, at palaces grand,
When the forces of the heavens fought for control of every land…
And the daughter of the queen served as my priestess, for an age.
Before the sons of Olympus came against us in all their lofty rage!
You shall not find the palace, where we once held court in secret,
For that world was broken by the foe, when wars had thus beset.
Her temple now looks out over a plane far removed from this one,
And no human eye can measure, the gulfs that between thus yawn.
Losing my way in tangled woodlands, when harvest moon is high,
I slip between the gulfs when the portal opens that none can deny.
Attune thyself to the elementals, and commune with spirits of afar,
For that is how the spell is cast, which bridges many a distant star.
Of random whim, she assumes a form that the eye can perceive…
In the chambers of her place of waiting, where her kindred grieve!
Her eyes begin to glow with the red flames of the dragon blood…
That once ruled much of the world before the advent of the Flood.
Proud is she, and stately as a true noble of the race of her kindred,
Even in darkness, attended by those who are now called the dead.
Part Three: Forbidden Embrace
Of jade hue is her flesh, her hair the color of blood, freshly spilt…
Her garments are flowing black silks, and she is free of elder guilt,
For time hath erased the stain that marked her once upon far eons!
And so I take her hand in my own; to her charm my will succumbs.
She presses against me as our forms embrace, two titans cast low,
As her silks flow about her, and I, their softness gentler than snow.
We fall upon cushions of black and red, upon her temple’s floor…
And we move together as of old, each of us playing like the whore.
The ebb and flow of lovemaking as powerful as the tides of ocean,
Carries me away upon celestial seas, to places of hidden emotion!
To embrace the forbidden incarnate, no ordinary soul can survive,
And were I just a man like any other, I could not in her love thrive.
Whilst we made love trees withered in the forests and did perish…
And even the pines turned brittle, which every season doth cherish.
The soil grew cold, and autumn surrendered to winter’s demand…
Whilst the harvest moon turned as if blood by an unholy command.
The pleasures I enjoyed, blinded me to the terrors that lay without,
And were it not for the heights of ecstasy, my soul would so doubt.
Our passions spent, we withdraw and time seems to freeze solid…
As a kind of silent eternity holds sway, its’ coming a notion sordid.
Part Four: The Dance Macabre
The dark queen takes into her hand some panpipes, and she plays,
Which brings time back from the brink of oblivion by arcane ways.
Something in her music chills me to the core, and I know old fears,
As I remember the last time I heard it, during a world’s final years.
Skeletons rise from hidden crypts, dancing macabre to that tune…
As if judgment day hath arrived to enshroud that domain of gloom!
The queen puts down the pipes, and the dance comes to a finish…
Whilst she comes back to kiss me again, her lust never diminished.
I am heated: by her lips; but yet I cannot escape the silent stares…
Of things that should not be walking again, increasing all my cares!
How turns rapture so soon to something that cannot be explained?
Only as the seasons change, can such understanding be so gained.
The scent of roses mixed with the stench of the grave arose then…
As incense and lilies seemed to overpower all that, and all of them,
Those fiends that were mockeries of their living selves long erased,
When they began their servitude to the kingdom of shadowy grace.
I could have run but where would I go when death is part of things,
So that all must come to her in the end, both commoners and kings!
Yet even death gives sway to she whose kingdom I entered foolish,
So that there is nothing in those domains that is not held to her wish.
Part Five: Tongue of the Ancients
The kiss ceases, the embrace remains, and I am held by her design,
She whose names cannot be uttered: who holds the book and sign!
I do not plead to be set free; you cannot plead with a queen as she,
All I could do was enjoy her company, granting her the true victory.
I hear the creaking of the bones of they that now shamble off quick,
Only to clatter to the floor, becoming each a pile of tree-born sticks.
I am alone with the queen at last, and we speak without any voices,
As I learn that all that transpired did so because of my own choices.
She takes my chin into her right hand to study me in manner curious,
Taking the measure of my nature, and finding it somehow glorious…
Then she opens her mouth to speak, but can only utter some shriek!
Speaking words in a tongue long unspoken for many a divine week,
Which spans far beyond, the count of mortals as they may reason…
And yet I understood every syllable, for I was a part of her treason.
That same, which brought us both unto our current forms and fates,
The power of which drew me to her, where she for all eternity waits.
Soon darkness engulfed all and I was back in the woodland strange,
Where winter now was in its’ full swing: upon every path and range!
Dawn now replaced the harvest moon, and sunlight glared intense…
To eyes that had just emerged: from the other side of life’s far fence.
Part One: Sorrowful Queen
In sorrow, reigns: a blessed queen; for others tell tales of her fall…
And mark her as a being accursed, telling such tales to one and all.
But she is regal even in exile, though queen she be of dark shades!
I tell her tale a different way, for I have walked in her misty glades.
Her mercy is not reserved for the wicked, but only for those pure,
And so my heart was judged of old, when I was asked for more…
In such regard I came to see, the beauty of that angel fallen of light.
But never in glory diminished was she, her fairness existing to spite,
Those powers that laid low her first estate, and robbed her throne!
I had embraced all that they feared, ere I was given flesh and bone.
No darkness fills my heart with terror, for I have seen Hell in entire,
And the corrupt that gnash their teeth, below, bathed in ghostly fire.
In the palace of the queen I do not see them, for therein is a peace,
Kept by pacts long unknown to mortals, that only gods may cease.
Starless are the spaces betwixt the distant planets I once tread on,
Black as the eyes of she whom I sing of here, but for a distant sun!
Nameless is she as the moon of this world, unknown in alien clime,
Where others names are spoken of, in languages of the inner mind.
How different was my aspect in those realms, than that I do wear,
In this guise in which I have endured as even gods must now bear.
Part Two: Between the Gulfs
Oh ye men and women who long to journey to the farthest galaxy:
Do not look there for thy salvation, for that way lies: only tragedy.
I was there, beyond the scope of mortal seeing, at palaces grand,
When the forces of the heavens fought for control of every land…
And the daughter of the queen served as my priestess, for an age.
Before the sons of Olympus came against us in all their lofty rage!
You shall not find the palace, where we once held court in secret,
For that world was broken by the foe, when wars had thus beset.
Her temple now looks out over a plane far removed from this one,
And no human eye can measure, the gulfs that between thus yawn.
Losing my way in tangled woodlands, when harvest moon is high,
I slip between the gulfs when the portal opens that none can deny.
Attune thyself to the elementals, and commune with spirits of afar,
For that is how the spell is cast, which bridges many a distant star.
Of random whim, she assumes a form that the eye can perceive…
In the chambers of her place of waiting, where her kindred grieve!
Her eyes begin to glow with the red flames of the dragon blood…
That once ruled much of the world before the advent of the Flood.
Proud is she, and stately as a true noble of the race of her kindred,
Even in darkness, attended by those who are now called the dead.
Part Three: Forbidden Embrace
Of jade hue is her flesh, her hair the color of blood, freshly spilt…
Her garments are flowing black silks, and she is free of elder guilt,
For time hath erased the stain that marked her once upon far eons!
And so I take her hand in my own; to her charm my will succumbs.
She presses against me as our forms embrace, two titans cast low,
As her silks flow about her, and I, their softness gentler than snow.
We fall upon cushions of black and red, upon her temple’s floor…
And we move together as of old, each of us playing like the whore.
The ebb and flow of lovemaking as powerful as the tides of ocean,
Carries me away upon celestial seas, to places of hidden emotion!
To embrace the forbidden incarnate, no ordinary soul can survive,
And were I just a man like any other, I could not in her love thrive.
Whilst we made love trees withered in the forests and did perish…
And even the pines turned brittle, which every season doth cherish.
The soil grew cold, and autumn surrendered to winter’s demand…
Whilst the harvest moon turned as if blood by an unholy command.
The pleasures I enjoyed, blinded me to the terrors that lay without,
And were it not for the heights of ecstasy, my soul would so doubt.
Our passions spent, we withdraw and time seems to freeze solid…
As a kind of silent eternity holds sway, its’ coming a notion sordid.
Part Four: The Dance Macabre
The dark queen takes into her hand some panpipes, and she plays,
Which brings time back from the brink of oblivion by arcane ways.
Something in her music chills me to the core, and I know old fears,
As I remember the last time I heard it, during a world’s final years.
Skeletons rise from hidden crypts, dancing macabre to that tune…
As if judgment day hath arrived to enshroud that domain of gloom!
The queen puts down the pipes, and the dance comes to a finish…
Whilst she comes back to kiss me again, her lust never diminished.
I am heated: by her lips; but yet I cannot escape the silent stares…
Of things that should not be walking again, increasing all my cares!
How turns rapture so soon to something that cannot be explained?
Only as the seasons change, can such understanding be so gained.
The scent of roses mixed with the stench of the grave arose then…
As incense and lilies seemed to overpower all that, and all of them,
Those fiends that were mockeries of their living selves long erased,
When they began their servitude to the kingdom of shadowy grace.
I could have run but where would I go when death is part of things,
So that all must come to her in the end, both commoners and kings!
Yet even death gives sway to she whose kingdom I entered foolish,
So that there is nothing in those domains that is not held to her wish.
Part Five: Tongue of the Ancients
The kiss ceases, the embrace remains, and I am held by her design,
She whose names cannot be uttered: who holds the book and sign!
I do not plead to be set free; you cannot plead with a queen as she,
All I could do was enjoy her company, granting her the true victory.
I hear the creaking of the bones of they that now shamble off quick,
Only to clatter to the floor, becoming each a pile of tree-born sticks.
I am alone with the queen at last, and we speak without any voices,
As I learn that all that transpired did so because of my own choices.
She takes my chin into her right hand to study me in manner curious,
Taking the measure of my nature, and finding it somehow glorious…
Then she opens her mouth to speak, but can only utter some shriek!
Speaking words in a tongue long unspoken for many a divine week,
Which spans far beyond, the count of mortals as they may reason…
And yet I understood every syllable, for I was a part of her treason.
That same, which brought us both unto our current forms and fates,
The power of which drew me to her, where she for all eternity waits.
Soon darkness engulfed all and I was back in the woodland strange,
Where winter now was in its’ full swing: upon every path and range!
Dawn now replaced the harvest moon, and sunlight glared intense…
To eyes that had just emerged: from the other side of life’s far fence.
Published 8th Nov 2011
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