Masquerade

The fading of a pink cherry tree
Leaves the black bark naked.

Smug, dark, pitiful, ruined,
Birds and insects flee
Though its roots still strong and sap still leaks

Season pass,
Winter comes.
As crystal blades,
Sombre limbs are covered in white.

Pass again,
Blossoms reformed
Where birds and insects return
Though never will they be pink again.

Nameless

Fools they are
Trying to catch the moon,
Quench it in a cup of iron;
The moon will sink them as dust.

Fools they are
Thy crowning them king,
Dwelling on a tower a high;
The moon shall blind them as slaves.