Midnight Cravings

The Darkness surrounds me,
light is a distant memory,
haunting the shadows of my mind.
I do not mind the darkness
nor the sibilant whispers,
ever craving for justice, or revenge.
It matters not which.

To drown out the silence I remember.
I recall those hated days,
the long, desolate, lonely nights.
Rotations of a cycle that always, always
lead up to that Day.
And the Night that caused it.

Recollections of then, the long ago,
the distant warmth, turn, turning
(Sister, I am sorry. I miss you)
The sun, ever warm, ever burning.
Sometimes it crackles like fire,
but mostly it just hangs, ominous.
Tormenting me with silence.

It is so quiet up here.

~~~~

Years ago, days and centuries to turn,
too many to count, sweet Celestia bore
the love, the warmth, the adoration;
most often she, the sun, was in folklore.
The soft shadow, ever present,
ever quiet and shy, forgotten Luna,
the fair moon of neglect.

Present and unassuming, secondary
(or so the rumours say)
to the Suns bright presence
for which the ponies would play.
Until exhausted, they lay to sleep
under the nocturne shroud
and the silence it needs to keep.

Soft and fine in ways the Sun was not,
the night, the moon, a pale shimmer glow.
A cold light oft shunned, eyes turned away
to favour the brilliance of the dawn.
To thaw the frost, ease the breathy chill,
bright colours in cold rain, light across the sky
voices lift in joy, incandescent ecstatic thrill.

Fair moon, sweet Luna, shut not your eyes;
let not the silent bindings twine and bloom.
Lock not your heart to the warmth.
Play, sweet Luna, you will soon rejoice
but not before, rich with fear
you awake as Nightmare Moon.

To eternal darkness the Sun objects,
a clash of wills, crossing of twin horns
the feathers dark and pale flutter and fall.
Water eclipsed, dripping dawns soft warmth;
silence held in a locked heart, ice pierced in twain,
with a dark shaft of rainbow night, pushing,
binding the Nightmare to Luna's moon.

Mythos, mares tale, disbelieving whisper.
Rumours of the sweet, shy Luna.
The Mare in the Moon, ever silent
ever shy, ever watching, trapped;
a cage of her own making, bars of silence hold
locked by broken-heart tears of the Sun.

Ten times ten the bars will hold,
keeping the Night at bay.
Seven tears fell, seven stars conspire;
time to end the hold of Day.
(Sister, I am sorry. I miss you)
Still the silence, locked within
binds to keep the pair apart.

In blackest Night, in brightest Day,
seven stars conspire and will hold sway.
Bars to be lifted, the night roams free.
Sweet Luna, turn not your face,
harden not your heart and rejoice
to know the end of Nightmare Moon.

Seven tears fell, six voices raised
not to banish, not to silence,
rather cut the bindings and thaw the ice,
Sweet Luna, fair Moon, shut not your eyes.
Be welcome in the warmth,
welcome in from the frozen chill
(Sister, I am sorry. I miss you)
the binding silence is shattered.

From the writings of history,
the pony interpretation of that Day
and the Night that caused it.
A tidbit of detail to be forgotten,
for if she has her way, soon,
this will be the all and only, a record
of she who never was; Nightmare Moon.

~~~~~

I feel the silence now, it is part of me,
but it doesn't strangle me, now.
Not any more and never again.
I look to the familiar, silver orb,
my gaol, my cell, my home;
And I smile.