On my skin I bear the scars of my creation.
I am the yin and the yang,
the burning and the forever black.
At night the world is my dance floor.
I pirouette. I scatter light.
Trace orbits with my hands.
When the sun comes up I suffer,
become a ghost, a smudge of chalk,
lucky if you see me at all,
but tonight it matters nought
for while you stand there
heavy on the shore,
I’ll set across the water
and drive a silver shaft
deep into your core.