A lot more often now, I have troubles falling asleep. Or staying asleep. Or not staying asleep too long.

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Downy lies the tired fay
Silken-born in soft dismay
As does end the tired day
She shan't see the sky

Cold the wind, so crisp with dew
She shall be the sea in lieu
Of the ocean's kiss of blue
May it bring some rest

As with many fillies now
As the tired Moon does bow
And the sun does peak her brow
Never did she sleep

Thoughts like spears in candied hooves
Wrack her mind while wake ensues
Another restless night to use
To take another day

Sleep the day, and no tomorrow

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The Tempest

For she is born of the winds
Sky around her twisting in a cacophony of whispered things
Shall she be moral? Shall she be nice?
All depends how the world treats her, and her inner spark

And so with Tempest Moon
Who awakens in the dead of the cold night
Blanched of color and hope and dreams
For in the seasons of the dark, sometimes we are weak

The Tempest Storm prevails
For the most part, anyways

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Soft do hooves trod cloud-cover
Damp beneath these shards that carry
Click the ice but never wary
As the feather never falls

Memories adrift
A mind in flurry, memories
Swarm around her soul; she sees
These things she'd once forgotten

A mare in only age
Infinite in broken wisdom
Feathers singed by judging glares
Smashed; she is eternal

Born in error, always seen
Try to change what she has been
She shall never alter ways
In the eyes of early days

She, the child flame

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