Adopted Mother

The pale moon pulsates white-hot from a distance,
Reaching out across time and time again,
To try and grab the fist of the father who forgot,
What it means to be defined.
Intention fades from a lack of breathing-room,
Falling short of the noble roles they were meant to re-cast.
Frustration freezes over the mirrored orb of night,
Stopping time and trial alike,
In a picture-perfect snapshot of immobility;
A light-hearted edict or servitude.
A celestial wrongful incarceration,
While the murderer soars free,
Pulling strings that taste like greed,
Elevating mirror-golems into off-white towers,
Chiseling away at Cybele’s restraining order,
Overturning the levies that dammed back our fears of fire.
Selene re-enters the scene,
A forgotten lover suspended in shadows,
Desperately yearning for acknowledgment through childhood,
With only lungs thawed in a body of ice-rock,
Breathing in oblivion and holding her breath long enough,
To add the scent of fire and honeysuckle,
Exhaling the first of an infinite last breaths.
The pale moon flickers, incandescent, 
As I feel her breath come and hold me tight,
In waves of sweet smoke,
Whispering a Mother’s lullaby to a newfound Subject Of Nix.

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