beneath the moon

The last time I saw her,
she was dancing with the moon
brilliantly bending, tending
most tenderly each fleeting
fairy that fairly reflected
the light of dearest Luna.
And that she could do this
at all, however smally sensual
she in contrast to the immensely
glowing orb so high above—
that she could so enthrall me,
being far too zealously adoring
of my fair heavenly love
who has no never, not once,
failed to please me—that she
I say could dancing deftly
fill my vision with grandeur
beyond compare—that alone
was enough to ensure my lasting
love, my eternal adoration,
for although she is gone now,
so very far from me, she will
always remain close, enshrined
within this heart, my shining one
my artist beyond compare,
staring at the falling snow
as she danced beneath the moon.

İstanbul 24 December 2021


o, exalted daughter of dagda
passionate penetrating flame
arrow of seething fire
shot straight and true
and oh most salient

your brilliant burning heart
so remarkably intrepid at
encasing folly and fear
and hope and hearth
in precise syllables

your spirited voice enchanting
demanding and nearly as deft
as your ever healing touch
at texturing trembling
love’s finest adjuration

in the rising winds of winter
growling hungry harrowed
against these thin panes
i hear your keen lament
for murdered ruadan

but the earnest hush of solemn night
translating your crackling flames
is truth enough for we who remain
of how zealous love can be
and how enduring