Epithalamium: Twenty-first Hour

The beauty of night is merely darkness
For those who never bother with the stars
Beyond the first – Lucifer nèe Venus,
A distant sun of indistinct desires
That serves as dusk’s out-riding fugitive.
Its light is meant to give
Some dim indication of sullen gloom.
But rising moon and fulgent stars contrive
To arbitrate the glory bride and groom
Will bless with seed and womb.
The moon resets her jewel within night’s crown;
Ascending, silver-throned, a queen who grants
These newest lovers light’s discrete romance,
And grave regard commingles with light renown,
Reflecting pools of joy with deeper joy.
The moon is love’s envoy
And magnifies the mysteries of darkness –
Which nature cannot solve without the key of grace.