- By Insha Rahman, student, Law and Politics, B.R. Ambedkar University.
Once again, the blood moon has come.
Crimson cascading—
In thin, awkward air.
Walls of the firmament whisper,
the tales of scattered conflict.
The night of creatures, primal and deep—
The moon gently shifts
from the penumbra to the umbra.
Tales of haunting reverie.
Not just beasts of the past,
but beasts of the present.
Be it a lycanthrope,
or a blood-hungry undead—
the vampire.
But now, they walk in human skin:
the Homo sapien,
spreading hate like plague,
dividing the world
by faith, by land, by fear.
Power-drunk rulers roar—
wolves disguised in tailored suits—
feeding on the starving,
sowing discord on every stage.
The forest whispers of two-faced monsters.
An age-old battle reborn,
but now it lives within us,
among us.
Could the cure lie in hidden stones—
Moonstone? Lapis Lazuli? Babylon’s gems?
Or in the ancient womb of wisdom:
in balance, truth, compassion?
Will hatred fade from Earth?
Will bloodlust finally wane?
Or are we the new monsters
beneath a dying moon?
Once again,
the blood moon has come.
Crimson cascading.
Walls whispering.
Not of myth—
but of men.
Summary:
The poem uses the imagery of a blood moon to reveal how ancient myths and celestial events mirror humanity’s enduring inner darkness and societal conflicts.