Moonbound: The Second Shape of Man

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Moonbound: The Second Shape of Man

By day he walks in borrowed skin,
A careful name, a measured face,
Hands taught the grammar of restraint,
Heart locked in civil, human place.

But when the moon ascends in red,
And silence tightens like a vow,
The body learns an older truth
The mind was never taught to know.

Bone remembers what flesh denies,
The pulse recalls a wilder law,
Not rage, but hunger shaped as will,
Not sin, but clarity with claw.

He does not change—he is revealed:
The second shape beneath the first,
The watcher born of teeth and wind,
The self that never learned to curse.

Moonbound, he stands between two oaths:
To guard the fire, to hunt the dark,
Half prayer, half howl, entirely whole,
A man, a beast, a single mark.

When dawn returns its borrowed light,
And blood retreats from silver skies,
He wears the day like consequence,
While night remains behind his eyes.