Travail
On the endless birth of creation
They stole her children
in dusk darkness.
all-powerful three,
left-behind memories,
fragments reflecting
light on a crystal shore.
The eldest held the moon
atop her head.
Nocturnal guardian,
weaving dreams between
brain fog.
The middle stood upon a
lake of time,
decreed morning rise and
battled eternal sunsets,
a clockwork capillary.
The youngest burnt down
a forever forest in the
name of love,
watched as death spun a web
around nature’s fortress.
They stole her children
in dusk darkness.
Their achievements cast
into a tomorrow wind.
She shall birth again,
a million new follies
unleashed on our
delicate world.
C.B