I could not let this full moon go by without a tale, however short. This is the time of the Wild Hunt and the end of the season of growth. So I have a bit of dark poetry to read by the light of the full moon.
remembrance

we clamor after infinity with braying horns and shrill exhortations we engrave names in granite and black ink against the forsaking future we dance around death denying her claim but even she will die this is the only nature of nature where there is stasis there is no life and change begets conclusion how can these ephemeral symbols in sand withstand time one wave wipes all away only echoes in dark canyons endure and even so who will hear who will understand these words yes, even this little is lost in translation and so we fear her as she stalks backstreets and cradles taking back her own naming and claiming her children trailing annihilation in her train a thought expunged and we are left with the dirge of forlorn crickets we wail at black moons shedding tears for erased eternities and oh how we recoil from wizened flesh abhor the decay of regeneration setting gravestones against the sunset even as we absurdly revel in nativity delighting in firefly dance and butterfly wings and the wide-eyed wonder of infancy though we know all beginnings must come to an end and so we clamor declare i am in the face of all that was stake claims to clouds proclaim perdurable remembrance here were we and out brief candle we gather around the casket telling tales of the afterlife of flames cold comfort in these waning days no amount of nervous laughter will bend the laws of mater she herself is subject as all must be for at the end of time she will breathe her last as all beings will blowing out the light giving her body to the splendor of renewal the only truth and none will know her name but all will be as we her re-membered
©Elizabeth Anker
