the moon stood in the sky
with tools upon his back.
so he’d work through day
and through the night.

he forged the weapons of
warriors throughout his land,
and for one it was quite special
to hold a blade made from his hand.

the sun gleamed in the day,
but the moon was far away.
a star catcher he did make
to pull the sun into his wake.

eclipses aren’t made to last.
but their energy stays
a never forgotten past.
the moon enjoyed the sun’s rays.

so should he stand in shadows,
he was content with his fate.
at least the sun lived day to day.

the moon hid his pain, day to day,
for he hurt in way that mortals
could not know, could not speak.
his sorrow made gods fall to their knees

and so the moon toiled, day to day,
while the sun lived away
but he could not weep.
the sun was never his to keep.