Oh, Luna, Luna, lovely be.
Lacuna, please, come back to me.
These years apart, my thoughts were true:
Of only, only, only you.
Our regal night entombs these halls,
This broken stone, these castle walls,
With mildew scent and shrouded wails
That in my patience never fails
To bid I wander ‘neath your light—
From pool to pool of moondrop, white.
To slither, snake, in shadow form,
To recollect, inveigle—mourn—
What ficklest fate had stole from me…
Lacuna, Luna, hostess, thee.
I’ve waited long in castle dark
To hold you close, to feel your spark—
That wond’rous flame within your eye—
That prideful power seeking sky
And land that loves our darkest night,
That wants our world without Her light.
To bear the stars and moon alone,
To see us, rightfully, the throne.
Our time, once past, has come again.
We’ll realize our night’s domain.
T'ward Canterlot, I fly to thee,
From out of Castle Everfree.
I come for you, but serpent smoke,
A nightly guise, my starry cloak
That you alone will surely spy,
If be it dark or light the sky,
And hold against your breast your hoof,
A hoping, fleeting, wish for proof
That it is I who comes to you—
That seeks for only, only you.
You’ll say to me: “Oh, thank you, dear.
I’ve missed you every lonely year
“Brought forth by Sunlight’s blist’ring sun.
Now let us fly and us be one,
“Rejoined in twin-sought nightmare bind!”
I hearken for you, nevermind
The distance left and days between.
I’ll find you soon, Lacuna, queen.
You feel within your heart of hearts
The twisting, aching, vexing art
Of love!
‘Tis ours, my Luna. Ours alone.
‘Tis ours upon obsidian throne.
Come closer here—my heart, my host.
Come closer. Hear my heart, my host,
Is only staid with presence close.
Were love a potion, ample dose.
My night-ful bride, I need your boon.
My baleful bride, I need you soon:
For what’s eclipsed by half a moon?
The city streets below are bare.
It’s quiet here—a silent prayer
To you so close before the dawn.
I feel you, taste you, pull me on.
The throne is just beyond the hall,
But you not quite. Not quite at all.
Industrious, you ever were,
Unceasing bone and skin and fur.
Forever working, seeking fame,
In starlit night with starlit mane.
Beneath Her shadow, out of sight,
You toiled, thankless, every night.
You knew your place ‘neath Silver crown,
Despite the Gold, despite Her frown.
She never knew the pain inside,
Your humble wants, your jealous pride.
‘Twas much deserved, if only seen.
But only I, my love, my queen,
Could see within what, hateful, burned—
For simple recognition, yearned.
And still your nightly clip-clop speaks
Of retribution. Interest piques.
I follow, low; I follow you,
Across the velvet floor imbued
With scent of silver filigree.
Like rainfall on the Everfree,
‘Tis one I know as safe and dear,
So near to heart, so ever near.
Your hooffalls stop before a door
Of golden sunbursts I abhor.
And I, too, end my creeping crawl.
I cease my hopeful, inward drawl
That you but turn and gaze at me.
But wait, what’s this? What flowers be
Within your grasp, this azure vase
That you so hesitantly place
Against the foot of sunburst door?
Two flowers I have seen before.
For reasons I can scarcely plumb:
A nightshade-wound chrysanthemum.
Its golden bloom bobs over death.
It bobs beneath your sweetest breath.
You smile—smile!—it farewell.
You turn and see me, see me well.
Your smile fades, the trick forgot;
Conniving gesture leaves your thought.
How long I’ve waited now for this,
The catch of breath, the gasp of bliss.
Come closer here—my heart, my host.
Come closer. Hear my heart, my host.
This beating, thumping raucous boom
Within my chest has ample room
For what was lost, your power—mine.
Reclaim me now, my heart entwine!
Together soon, we’ll ever be.
Together, you and I are We.
Oh, We the crown and We the sky
That draws attention to our eye:
The Moon above, forever full,
That watches, sees, is never dull.
With wings unfurled, our shadow’s cast
Forever on the world at last!
The ponies tremble, stumble, quake.
Apologies both real and fake
Will fumble from their lowly tongues.
From one—from all!—both old and young.
They’ll learn their wrongs, their errored ways.
They’ll see soon, then, the end of days.
Your silver hoof, but give to me,
And all the world will surely see that
WE ARE NIGHTMARE!
…
But... What is this? That hardened gaze,
So twisted, fraught, need I rephrase?
Your eyes a-tremble, lowered head...
Had you assumed that I was dead?
What darkened shadow hesitates?
The Night is come! The Night awaits!
But cast aside your worries, love!
We’ll rectify the sky above,
And you will know your righteous rite
Of birth and scorn Sun Sister’s spite!
N-No? What’s this? You look away?
You’d rather see the light of day
And shun your nightbound pedigree—
Remain in surly apogee?
What’s happened in these years apart
That’s broken you, my vexing art?
Why stand you so, why look aghast?
I’m less a shadow of your past
Than outstretched future just in reach.
Come hither, Luna! I beseech.
Your hoof, it rises from the stone.
As cold as moonlight, white as bone.
You speak with solemn, hollow voice,
As if you haven’t any choice:
“I’ll bear no more your hateful curse.
I’m sorry, Sister. Be dispersed.”
Though formless, shapeless, I am stunned.
I falter, waver, wholly shunned
By love long lost that now is found—
In Sunlight’s chains is clearly bound.
You lie! Your words are drops of doubt.
You seek to slander, curse throughout.
My Luna’d never bide the sun.
With her—my love!—what have you done?
The silence reigns as darkness should.
Your tears fall free like any’s would.
That wince upon your face I see.
If it’s not Her, then… Is it me?
Am I not what you wanted, dear?
Am I not what you sought in fear,
To sow the seeds of their respect
And find in comfort, derelict,
Those trampled flowers without bloom
That whither ‘neath neglected moon?
I brought you from your lower state,
But now you claim it’s me you hate?
Oh, wherefore comes this disrespect?
From you, my love, I’d not expect
A face-heel turn to Sister Sun.
Return to me, and we will run
Her through with moonshaft bright!
We’ll close her eyes and snuff the light!
Within, I see the shadows sown
By years in darkness, fears that grow
Of what We were, of what could be…
Is it true...? That you fear me?
A forward step, a step t’ward me.
Within your eyes, I wholly see:
A mare inside, in shackles, chained
To whipping post, forever pained
By what was done, what I hath wrought.
Our deeds—our sins? We duly sought
What’s ours by birth divine, my queen.
Our methods now, though, seem obscene?
You weigh your mind with conscious guilt,
With foalish mounds of moral silt.
Impossible to let them go?
Then keep them if it suits you so,
But surely you don’t feel the need
To stay but half, be from me ‘freed?’
You look at me, now resolute.
You speak with voice I can’t refute:
“These words I’ve said I won’t again.
I’ve freed myself from darkened reign.
“Be gone, my soul-spun, twisted vice!
I’ve paid already hefty price
“For suff’ring, sorrow, death you’ve caused.
When from you freed, I’d nothing lost.”
I thought, I-I thought we were in love?
My mare, my Luna—night-ful dove!
This gift of kinship sought on high,
Our life—our love—was… but a lie?
No.
You liar! Whore! This cannot be!
You give yourself to Her, not me?
I bring with me the night’s advance,
But you won’t take a second chance?
Am I not worth the uphill fight...?
Your Nightmare—me—your loving Night?
Within your eyes, a silent pain:
You wish of all, you wish in vain
That We had never come to pass.
My heart, it feels like fractured glass.
I ache, my Luna, how I ache.
Lacuna, oh, soon will I break.
I cannot bear your callous plea.
I take to sky; I fly from thee!
From castle bright, to forest dark,
I fear to turn and see the spark—
That wond’rous flame within your eye
That dares not seek to shroud the sky
With stolid, cold, and moonlit night,
Now so much colder ‘neath your light.
‘Tis full, the moon, as full can be.
You made it so, but absent me.
Within. Without. I feel so numb.
Oh, where is my chrysanthemum
To twine with you within your breast,
To sleep with you and claim my rest?
My Night Mare! Nightmare! Lid my eyes,
So I endure not moonless skies!
I see now in these years apart,
You’ve turned a leaf to vexing art.
I thought we were, we are—will be!
My lovely Luna, we shall see.
For now, though, can I hardly feel
Your warmth of heart or Nightmare zeal.
This ghost will go and pass you by.
I’m lost, my Luna. Tell me…
...Why?
