And he chased her until dawn broke

The moon was new last night 
as it crested over Ohio, 
and I thought I saw the echo 
of Tsukuyomi, up there 
between the parting clouds. 
His mistake was wanting beauty 
when there was none to be had; 
food and art combined like 
winter and sun. Now, we are 
waxing—moving closer to becoming 
full again.