The Night Of The Pale Moon Poem by Bojael lamarkho

The dim touch, of this dying moon`s,
Yet, compels agony within this night.
The pale hearts, for their loss, cries and mourns,
While still eager to share, even a claw of light.

Yearning dawn and its delight,
Which once, my love and I adored,
Combining our selves and the starlight
In a place we called our dream world.

The dying moon sat pale on a mountain,
Overwhelmed, floating through this long night.
Yet, couldn`t restore the hearts that lied broken,
Couldn`t recover the dying heart of light.