Makers of the Moon

by Rich Wilcock

From what I could gather, the sunset had disappeared
No golden slivers shaking across the depths
The makers of the moon had taken it all away

There was a mystery to the inquisitive
They stalled on the spot, squinted to the sky
Eyes turning amber
Enthralled

And the sea laid at rest, no audience to this spartan crowd
Yet they still came
Stood on the port side, feet swaying
Chattering mouths from a churlish wind
Dabbling with unspoken glances to that orb in the sky

Holding down gravity and the pull of darkened waters
The craftsmen
Gave me a night with my crosses to bear
We were all there
Laying forth to the fragments of broken light

That shatter, with a clatter
That gave way to a fury,
A light that couldn’t dim

So the drums from the beat that the makers were making
Was taking
Everything away

So the makers of the moon were dancing with that beat
Raising our feet
Necking sweet nectar, neat

They drummed a beat that light couldn’t stop
That the valiant hearts couldn’t top
Until four, when there was only five

That beat carried on
Dum dee la dum
Until it echoed off the cliffs

That beat lives
Gives
Until the end

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RichMyself is a Manboy from the U.K. Manchester to be exact. You can read more of his work at http://richmyself.com/