The Moon of Lovecraft

he promised to the moon
but it never delivered.
how these fearful nights
turn to the renaissance
on changes and beings.
like Lovecraft with it all,
his dubious moons, and,
oh, it does hold near.
he bows to the goddess,
beckoning him to jump
into the lady of the lake.
hold not, she has left
the world above behind
to his unanswered prayers.
she was once, he believed,
but beliefs deterioates
and heretics disown her.
he falls into surrealism
as others pray to a god,
an imaginary enigma,
believed to be it, oh, all.
she, the moon, is gone
and hell threatens all,
who does not follow him.
he cries, at the good,
who, to the god, are damned.
why, oh, did we forget
the spirits and the moons?