A hunter’s moon tonight,
the mistress stands eclipsed,
hiding in the shadow of the maiden,
forced to wane early.
Her starry companion far away,
watches her fall to pieces,
shining ever so brightly,
burning in the fires of his own soul being torn to shreds.
Never to show his love,
Cursed, he watches from afar,
while she pines for her sun,
the distant lover falls apart.
And the storms raging in the chest,
of the maiden begin to ease,
with the mistress in her sky,
waning over her seas.
And Sirius still watches,
turning himself to ash,
while I sit in my window,
basking in the hash, smoking
By Viraj Belgaonkar
