As soon as moonlight hit that silenced eye,
that cruel illusion of confused sight.
Tears let out it's expected cry,
muted, made naught but beads of liquid...
... shining, forever inside that bright, white light.

The illusion was made insignificant
by the blinding, rising fire
little by little, but swift as a razor's slice through the fabric of dark.
Writhing on the horizon, resting on it's side,
that speck of lingering yellow.

A fire moves across my sky,
it is beautiful and it is bright,
but it does not calm and it does not silence.

Tears are unwelcome under it's reign,
moonlight marks their place,
glistening like pieces of a crushed mirror
complete with shades of red...

/