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The Serpent

The Sun dies on a summer eve;
his light at last dissipates.
The shadows lengthen
under the streetlamps’ wistful,
flickering, even extinct
illumination.
Then Night begins her rule
and the stars sing
a million – oh! A billion –
little stories – each
an epic in its realm,
but a footnote in mine.
The bull over the west;
can you hear his groans?
The hunter
with drawn sword and bow
and his dog at his heels
claim their gory trophy
and sing a victory chant!
The bear looks on,
its gaze turned northward,
tranquil and unconcerned.
But the night is mine –
The many-headed serpent.

Run away to your houses,
frail men,
beware my slithering children!
Safe between your walls,
lamps lighted,
you open your windows
to let in a sliver of moonlight
and shut it again
when you glimpse my blazing form!
My writhing figure
dancing on the zenith,
my tongues aflame,
and my tail in gracious curves
rule the night!
The moon shines dejectedly
in waning glory,
and the planets flee at my approach –
The night is mine!
Know me, fear me,
I am the malevolent
shatterer of worlds;
I am the serpent!

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