The Struggle

Dark Black Sky
Breaks forth a Bright Lite
The Moon over head
Yields and begins to Cry

The Forest holds but--
To no avail
The light comes down in hail
Through Leaves, Lite shall cut

Mirror of Water
Sent with ripples
Victors over Lite
Sends back Lite's Daughter

The dying Flame of Black
Holds coldly still
held by sheer will
In a corner never to Attack.