She walked her usual path,
Between sunny skies and the darkest moons,
She glances at the cool, calm inviting look of the
forests,
The trees look like the mouth of a wolf,
As if grinning at her in a cold silent way.
The sun starts to fade as night turns to day,
The moon slowly disappears, as her path switches towards a
bend in the road,
Still continuing down the middle of the earth.
Alas the road splits in two,
Unaware she must choose,
The moon, as if alive,
Urges her to take the edge,
Of negative words that cut through steel,
And drive it through her heart.
A shadow forms,
The blade is dropped,
The light was never gone.
The moon goes under the hood.
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