Love Sonnet LXXXVIII
Tonight the moon was full,
orange, and hung low on the
skyline. For some unknown reason,
it thought it was the master of
the night, of your heart, as though
you had no choice but to
give in to its reflected light,
to its hostile desire of domination.
But when you strip away its
veneer, look squarely at its
pocked essence, what appears
invincible, is but a reflection,
stolen light from the sun. We, on the
other hand, can be the masters of our fate
Aztec Warrior / redzone 5.1.2026







