Gentle Wheel. Poem by Lazarus Knix

Headless snakes of flowery white
Amass beneath the moon tonight
They draw no fangs, nor lunge to bite
Though I believe their venom might
Be stored within the silver light
They keep, out of a strong contrite

For what may fly beside the moon
(She who makes even devils swoon)
Without envy coming into
A time one would call opportune
To sing a melancholy tune
About how life’s unfair, untrue

So poison is the light they steal
From what the moon wills to reveal
They spread, and try to conceal
The lunar angles strong appeals
For us to turn from earthly zeal
And be like her, a gentle wheel