Shepherdess Moon

I am extraordinarily tired and will most likely not remember writing this come the morning.

Her incandescent gaze,

 Holds somber light,

Looking upon the world,

For such indulgence,

And the abandon of which dreary patterns take,

Only a moment,

Brief seconds of thoughtless joy,

Crashes down in dismal roars,

 Like the clatter of water upon an empty shore,

A gray stained vision of melancholy towers,

Holds such treasures sway,

Keeping such perceptive gazes locked,

To the ground in which holds them six feet under,

Like sheep without a shepherd,

They only silently wait,

For the fire to take hold.