Inside the vortex of a mind gone rhyme,
there lies a poet, truly blind.
What it is he cannot see,
is the pattern of his own reality.
Yet other patterns swirl and fly,
beneath his ever stormy sky.
And in the mirthless waning moon,
A reflection speaks and sings of doom
And to his ear he hears this song
It sings to him of the world gone wrong
So he rhymed of light, and rainbow's hue
In starker contrast of that moon so blue
So sure this poet, he had it right
He thought to keep the day, and stop the night
to shelter all that he held within his heart
To protect it from the growing dark
He raised his two arms into a Vee
The symbol of his sweet victory
Though with that action his fate was sealed
And before too long his folly revealed
He had wished to shed the lasting tear
The one that told of all his fear
That rally cry, it struck the stars
As his sun sank beyond the scars
Yet again the mirthless moon did rise
And there within reflected guise
Sorrow's song swept over him
And once again the poet's light went dim.
Slowly sinking, down to his knees
He raised his arms this time in plea
He asked the mirthless moon "Oh why"
And laughter was his last reply.