Adjustment by Merelynne
MOONHYMN
By Nema
Our lady rises with the moon
in silver kirtle, silver shoon;
Her horse and hounds course
moonlit hills
and stars wheel bright above Her.
Come be her stag for arrow’s
flight,
she'll hunt you through the
silver night.
Her arrow kisses as it kills;
in death you are her lover.
Artemis, Selene, Hecate, hear!
Crescent, or full, or endarkened
you rise.
As maiden, or mother, or
ancient, draw near
and silver our dreams of the
diamond skies.
Our Lord, He rises as the morn,
with golden helmet, golden horn.
His chariot fills all the sky
and earth warms in His glory.
But as time turns, the dark
draws down
and sleep descends on field and
town.
What's born in light in dark
must die,
and ancient is the story.
The Lord of Day is one, and gold.
His constancy is aeons old.
Our Lady dark, Her masks She
keeps,
a dancer and a changer.
My love is golden, constant,
true,
but I have seen the masks of you.
The dreamer dances when she
sleeps,
and rises up a stranger.
