Subjugated

The sun was burning hot and bright
the moon was lurking, ghostly white
but as the daylight slowly waned
the silver luster that it gained
made it bold with borrowed might,
a phase that couldn’t be sustained.

When regal robes of star-flecked night
are draped around the gods in flight
whose bodies have forever reigned
we try to seek the clues contained
but seldom get the angle right,
our confidence completely feigned.

Across a quickly clouding sky
the ebony marauders fly
and if one finds a juicy scrap
there’s bound to be a raucous flap
despite how hard we all may try
to flee this convoluted trap.