The King Longing For Flesh of a Bathsheba

The King longing for flesh of  a Bathsheba in my dreams
in the night of the light of the waning half moon, as she
and I have compacts with that moon.Oh gods help me;
she as my Nikkal-wa-ib, goddess of summer fruit, seems
to call to me out of that fading inconstant of silver shining.
In first quarter of life, under a waxing mirror of half moon
to be noticed or adored by LORD or by women consume
growing, yet under the shadows of my big brothers pining.

Then I consumed the second quarter with fame of victories
as I was marveled at by those longing to share my promise.
Jonathan came closest to sharing my love, if I being honest,
or as honest with myself as entering those cloudy memories
when attracted all those wishing to rise my comets of hope
as they were seduced one by one to say words of adoring
to keep the old ghosts of Divine and family's slights scoring.
Now becomes force of habit to of those my hands to grope.

Now full moon of life is passed by, as old powers dimming
when light had I coming to expect, now beginnings to flicker
as words jumping out of reach in mid thought  more quicker
vanish into ether as once favorite Psalms no longer hymning.
Oh come to me Bathsheba of my dreams harvesting the fruit
long past ripe. Murmur words I long to hear though carnage
strew the path and my shiny forged reputation now I tarnish
when brave Uriah I plot an end, to die under an enemy boot.

But YHWH long silent, as I take neglecting silence for assent,
stirs in the dreams of the Nathans of this world to sins recount
and counting, and counting, even once again building a mount
celebrating arrogance, calling me for  recourse only to lament
that I posing as lover only plotting to taking and not to giving,
not just to the Bathshebas of my life for they are, so too, many
outward signs of people, places, things I consumed all and any.
Please this day I ask forgiving, so that I may begin new living.