The Ballad of the Daytime Watchman

A myth.

Once upon a midnight’s height I find myself, each mortal night
gazing at a sky alight 
with sprites, winking as though they knew
the reason why when nights go cold
the stars—they glisten much more bold.
Perhaps it is a thing foretold, a wisdom past reserved for few. 

Perhaps among them, twinkling keen
there rests the deceased midnight queen
smiling happy, smiling mean at lands which now belong to you.
Maybe jealous, maybe sly
there’s prob’ly mischief in her eye—
but trapped up there beyond the sky she cannot scheme ‘til skies turn blue.

Perhaps she still remembers me,
our sordid nights of revelry,
those times we danced at dusk and stayed awakened ‘til the dawn.
Our grand, rapacious appetites,
our violent games, our sick delights.
It’s true—you never know how much you love your pains until they’re gone.

You never know how quickly your sweet lover can pass on until she’s spawned
out past the atmosphere
a spirit in the skies.
Until you’ve thrust yourself upon the rocks
your body, too, lay dying
and she cries!—
Oh, how I heard her bawl, condemned last to our fate.
How I tried to call
‘cross distances by which we’re separated.
There’s no cheating time
and God’s a clown
the universe is vast.
If you try to run,
undo what’s done,
it’s he who’s last to laugh.

It’s he who’ll pass your sentencing with force once dies are cast.

Every night may long she reign
condemned within the same refrain,
a watcher of the nighttime sky, a maiden of the moon.
‘Til sunrise when I come again
an Abel to her dying Cain
and feel her gaze upon me every day, just once, at noon.

For daybreak’s when she takes my place
and I take hers, up there in space.
Suspended poles, opposite roles. One song, two different tunes.
But when our sentences complete with open arms at last we’ll meet!
Yes, she’ll be smiling oh so sweet,
my guardian de lune.