Brooding, dark
Cloaked with mist—
A priest and a poet
To boot
Whom God chooses
To afflict.
My business is tending
The Moon’s moods
And catering
To the whimsy of stars,
But mostly,
You’re my obsession—
My hell
Being apart.
So bright and dazzling
At morning,
Your colours
Blind my sight—
So blue and solemn
At evening,
Your shadows
Cloud my mind.