The moon and its bloodline

The blood moon rose and stared at the world, its crimson shadow embracing all creation.

The cool breath of midnight ghosts escaping the abstract heat, the reality spoke only to the fiery moon.

He sat down in front of a faceless clock, their hands were sure but invisible to the eye.

Where only water meets the end, as it is with the cove of nature’s strength. The pendulum’s momentum will never end, the flow he rode till its death.

The blood moon stared with covered foes, complex identities of midnight living.

His trance was a story of spectrum thoughts, the only howl below the depths. The only stone he’ll ever find was devilish  though unpolished.

The blood moon was listening, it will not be deceived. The heavenly body will soon be at peace, explosions rose to the moon’s height but still- it will not be reached.

The invincible hands moved with precision, the signal traveled to its chosen piece. He moved on a parallel path till he met the bloody moon- it is the mystery between me and you.



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