Twilight Hour

The Twilight Hour
(for the Twilight Hand Campaign)

She whispers soft,
sweet discords,
of undying love,
and steadfast recollection.
Remembering the easy times,
and the not so.
Weather it is
glinting golden eyes
obsidean pools
or ruby rays of revenge,
you can be assured
that she is there,
with he.
And they are one,
though torn apart,
by worlds,
and fantasies,
and love,
and hate,
and death,
and life,
and souls,
and the question of
religion.
And they are whole,
even if a howling wolf,
breaks between
to make three too many,
and two too few.
We wait,
we watch,
we anticipate,
the breaking of dawn,
from the herald of a eclipsed new moon,
shattered then,
from twilight.