Reign Maker Of The Night Poem by Airda Jones

My hand is not his
Though he may force it so
My eyes will never face him
But toward the horizon's glow

He may will me to speak
A swear upon your name
To vow an eternal life to him
Though its meaning is not the same

The sun will rise for him only
To flourish in his own selfish sin
That the moon is his to reign
But my love will not be controlled by him

As confident as the wind
Gently whispers its secret note
The breeze will blow you forward
To answer my secret hope

He will meet his final match
With the horizon round the bend
Doomed to fail and falter
When you claim me in the end.