All stars are by their nature merciful.
As a child, I dreamt you lived in the tender
Day-glow constellations, even when their light
had long since dimmed with time.
I always did love everything that shines:
The gaudiest poisons. The last light of the milk-glazed moon.
Night is in cahoots with the perilous moon.
But you, my maiden, are precise and merciful,
A beacon on the water where the white loon shines.
I’ve had to come to certain terms, make a tender
Peace with the wreckage of time.
So swing high your lantern with its buoyant light.
If there’s one thing I love it’s the promise of light:
The brilliant sheen of a fattened moon,
And your celestial chant in measured time.
Gleam on, beloved merciful.
The darkness seeps in with a tender
Ease, but only your song shines.
In my desolation, the black asp shines.
Cure my midnight with your avid light.
I’ve lived too long in this tender
dream, with only the guidance of the trickster moon.
Bestow your luminescence, my merciful
On all those who dream in measured time.
And what if your light won’t reach me in time?
You know what they say about all that shines
Oh, starry mother, be merciful
All I know is a dearth of light
And the lunatic whispers of the dire moon.
I walk the path of the tender
Fool, not knowing wisdom from this tender
Hope. I pray for discernment to arrive in time.
Love me best, barks the swindler moon.
I’ve spent whole nights in the arc of your light,
Orchestral, sleek and merciful.
Witness the waning of the slothful moon. Shine
On me with your tender charm. In time
I’ll know that your light is merciful.