The vaporous fingers of the mist rise
up from the dark ground to clutch at
my fearful heart,
as the moon rises gloriously bloody
and full to rule the sleeping land
with an iron fist.
Creatures large and small growl and snarl
in humble obedience to your magical spell.
The stars bow before your shimmering presence,
the winds obey thy commandments and the tides
crash against the darkened land in salute,
and land cowers before your majesty.
For thou moon art the wicked ruler of the night.
Donavon Scott Vinson
