By S.E. Johnson
So this is Moon Goddess he thought,
As long spikes pierced his flesh,
Heavy breathing overtook him then,
Blood and sweat spilled forth fresh.
Dimly peering through his eyes,
Growing limp as life ebbed from him,
He saw her vestige vaguely shimmer,
His future days were grim.
He had only climbed the tree of heaven,
To catch a perfect view,
Then slither down before she woke,
Now she drank his youthful dew.
There at last he hung alone,
Upon the tree of heaven,
Beneath the pale and empty sky,
His sacrifice was given.
And from afar his lovers come,
To mourn this fair and lonely youth,
To taste the sap that drips like blood,
To learn the Goddess' truth.
The same is said of him I've heard,
He vainly climbed her thorny limb,
Knowing well he'd surely die,
As she took his life from him.