The moon\'s face looms above
Us, full and grotesque -
Even as we watch, it devours the
Stars, whose tiny white hearts
Pulse bravely on in the face
Of such consuming death.
I say to you, utter, yes,
Utter your madness! For in
Mad tongues have we spoken
In secret - clandestine murder
And defeat. Whisper here your
Rushed desires, your pale hopes.
The rough edge of truth shall
Be our salvation.
Sing in wild choruses with
Beast and earth. Weep silently
For an hour, but confess your
Sorrow to no man! Death cannot
Take more than this, and it is
Still a victory.