A sad tale this is
a story of
the legend of
The War-Bound Moon.

Scarred, beaten
He sits in space,
Casting upon us all
His ghastly face.

So torn and rough
His surface covered with dust--
This is
The War-Bound Moon.

Luna
Once called was he
And so the name he adopted
And so he shall be.

Luna, his rage so great,
Destroying all who bathe
in the light
of The War-Bound Moon.

Before the reign of man,
When Gaia, the planet of Earth
Was young and free
And Sol ruled the sky's hearth.

But no! Luna screamed.  Unfair that Sol should rule it all!
Called his brother Pluto to help
Destroy
The Life-Giving Sol.

From the cosmos they screamed--
Warriors of pluto--the army
of the

asteroids
thousands
small
rough
craggy
short
came
flaming
towards
Sol.

Closing in
A breath's range of Sol
And yet Sol stood firm, unmoving, unwavering
oh, peaceful, oh, unflinching
Life-Giving Sol.

Doomed it was.
A fate of a thousand asteroids
Before it seemed imminent
Each mass disasterous.

And then came the miracle
of the Legend
of the War-Bound Moon.

From Gaia, planet of Earth, mankind rose!
Guided naught but by it's soul
Together man rebelled
Creating the legends of olde!
Forged they did
The blade of Sol.

Gleaming
Under the light
of the War-Bound Moon.

And so the hero Siliace
Bearer of the blade
Rose into the heavans
As the law the asteroids did not bade.

And up, up did he rise.
Above heaven, above man, above the gods of olde
As he held his blade against
the War-Bound Moon.

And from there he descended
To the center of System Solar
Where he stayed
The savior of Solar.

Before the Sol he was
The Sword of Sol tight in grip
Protecting
the Life-Giving Sol.

There he stood as the asteroids came,
his back to Sol, his front to his blade
And his blade--the Blade of Sol he did rise
For the asteroids, he forbade.

And then with a mighty swing
He cleaved the very void around him
Sword reflecting on half the golden flames
of the Life-Giving Sol
Sword reflecting on half the pale light
of the War-Bound Moon
The Hero Siliace of
Gaia, planet of Earth

Tried Luna did
To call off the asteroid's strike
But the cut had been made
And Luna was now their dislike.

Towards Luna they thundered,
Shining with a golden glow
To their new target:
The War-Bound Moon.

And his face
Once white and pristine
Was pocked, scarred, malled,
Under the weight of the asteroids.

And today can man see
The scarred, beaten face
The emanating rage

Of the War-Bound Moon.