moonlight

There was always the complication of the mind.
Worries.
Wonder lust.
Too much passion.
Things would always be fine.
To a point.
Yet.
They would build.
Then explode like tiny Atom bombs in her hand.
Life would always find a way to implode.
Nothing ever came easy.
After so much work, it became demoralizing.

Nothing compared to the moonlight.
Pure.
Radiant.
Beautiful in it's simplicity.
It became her, and she to it.
To bathe in the glow, rejuvenated her very essence.

Then they came.
Decrepit and foul.
Congregated and held fast.
How they lingered.

She was clear.
Ready for the assault.
Many times over had she withstood it.
She would prevail.

Time grew slow.
Gripping.
Suffocating.

Now.
She's bathed in the fluids of consanguinity.
The moon has ensconced behind the dead.
She is pure in her judgment.

She is crepuscular light.