Illuminati: A Journal of the Arts - Spring 2022

Night is Darker in Winter The day is dreary and bitter; Its violent kiss of cold presses up against her frostbitten soul In winter, only sun relieves me, But she finds her comfort in the moon She represents harvest no longer: her serotinal hue has aged Into a far too ghastly ivory; the moon in her entirety, drowned -doused in bleach as the world moves from cold to colder.

Those who once kept her hidden Have since fallen, gifting her Ample space to coat the world in her purest form of blush.

And yet, The night is darker in winter.

Her skin is blanched, not like snow -She mimics the enduring bliss That clings to the moon as she disputes change.

Her muse was comparable to Day; She would bluster how her body held the power to starve me dry.

But, her luster provides no light Without Day’s effervescent blaze.

The nights reign cold for a reason.

Her light brings no warmth -- she lacks passion.

Her powers stem from those of Day: Dusk simply mimics dawn, Cold simply mimics heat.

I think I prefer Day to her: My skin may blister and bite And my eyes may grow sad and frosted, But I’d much rather cry with the minimal winter dayglow Created for the sole purpose ✦34✦