Moon sprout

the day offers no comfort to weary bones it demands a quickened step and robs me of my strength, breath and solitude habitually a pomegranate Lazarus acts without mercy then sinks into oblivion to the east yet, I found such solace in the arcane beauty of the unsheathed moon among a gentler husk, the charcoal shades of night, enslaved by her wispy luminance heavenly soothing upon my brow coating my sanity