Wolfheart – A Poem by Rowe Williams

A patch of fur, a glint of eye is painted,
pale, by the light of night.
Though hidden
from this half of the world
Sol cannot be ignored, its light
reflected by its partner, Luna
in passionate albedo.

Mourn, O you heretics.
Mourn, I command you,
for the lovely Luna, doomed
to shine only in another's light!
Master of wave and tide,
doomed, I say,
to half utter darkness,
half false light.

Isn't the moon lovely, tonight?

And Sol, both Sun and Star,
blazes defiantly,
curséd mocking of Artemis,
everlight reminder
of what she is not.

Luna, the Lovely. Artemis,
Hunter of Cold Night Light.
Locked in her prison of gravity,
would that she could throw
herself into the sea
she rules and escape her lover's
cruel torture.

Mourn, O you heartless.
Mourn, I command you,
that Luna may hear our cries.
Cry, I say, for Luna,
the Majestic Grey-White!

Isn't the moon lovely, tonight?

And Sol, Helios, vicious Bringer of Light!
He knows not what he does,
but still guilt stains
his fell life. Hateful, hated,
beloved Sol.

O Luna, the Cold Fury,
the Love That Hates,
save thy wrath divine.
Suffer Sol, suffer-shine.
Shield us, O Lovely,
from He, Sol The Burning!

Mourn, O you helpless.
Mourn, I command you.
For Luna, we mourn,
She Who Faces Sun's Might!

Isn't the moon lovely, tonight?