Poem: Crescent Moon – Silent Furnace

crescent-moon1

In awe of the crescent moon –

What silent knowledge

Is it slipping, secretly

Into the subterranean vaults

Of our mind

On the sly?

Subliminally – a sublime ally

Fashioning rainbows

From the darkest furnace

Now I sit in a pub

Constructed from

The Head of a King;

Isn’t existence

A funny thing?

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