`                       THE FRAGMENTED MOON

                                                                    (For K.T.)

                                                                                         : Karken Riba

The Sun had withered into a breeze and the sounds,

The Worlds turned black with the stamp of darkness around.

It was the time when the day-farers rest,

The hour for the sombre-wanderer to resurrect from its nest.

With a barrenness of the fall, deep inside them,

With the loneliness, the death of the Days, and the Mayhem.

Broken at the Core, brought together,

Trying, desperately, to outlive the Inner War.

Through the vague whites where salt-brooks dwelt,

Followed the Bloodless-Moon, as behind a skeletal tree it crept.

As Death passed both, on their fate it did wept,

The first has a promise broken; the other had a vow not kept.