The smiling moon glows down on me,
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A crescent basking on an orange sea.
A surging sea of siren song that
Ebbs and flows in constant rhythms
That deafen me and beckon me
To be freed from the echoes of my memories -
And from the constant beat of a reality
That reverberates the sadness of my misdeeds.
But on the wind comes the breath of a monk from the shore,
An immutable chant, a protection prayer
That quietens the siren's song and
Blows me on course toward safer waters.
But as I near waters calm and glassy,
Both voices are wedded on the wind
and they echo across the moonlit sky.
The siren's song, the monk's chant -
Entwined in perfect harmony
Two voices but the same tune.
Beguiled by their lullaby and
Blinded by a whole ocean of tears
That weep like sea spray from the crescent moon,
I crash on to the unseen rocks
And sink into the abyss.
Freed from the echoes of their melody
and freed from the pain of my memories.