Constant waves and black water
splashing against albino rocks
represent where ghosts of my past endlessly slaunter.
The Moon once white, now black,
cowers in fear for its last life;
forcing silhouettes of ghostly shadows' power slack.
An eclipse is rotating in this arid azure waste land
where past spirits, caught between high and low tides tread,
trying to stay above the black, fiery quicksand.
A soul's now caught within this azure waste land of an eclipse
praying, hoping, pleading to be freed
from a world of its past life clips.
I can only wonder: will my soul
remain free to walk about the Moon endlessly
or continue to be a prisoner in the azure lunar eclipse and endless hole?
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