Once again, the cycle is full.
The crescent has grown from
It's Cheshire cat grin
To a floodlight of madness
Filling the sky
With it's lunar reflection,
Blocking a billion
Stars from my vision,
Beckoning lunacy,
Calling the moonstruck
To walk in it's shadows,
To stumble about
Without clear direction,
Weeping and wailing
Without knowing why.
Werewolves and vampires,
The stars of tradition,
Reduce to a bit part
When Luna grows bright.
No one, it seems,
Can corner the market
When full moon madness
Captures the night.
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