God of Pentacles.

Moments do come
When I yearn for a presence
Moments do come
When I miss
What's unremembered
And lest I forget
I watch the weather
Its inexorable thinning
And I wish there was someone
I could wait herein
Someone worth the shelter.

There's a coat hanger up north
Empty of all my unbelongings
And there's a heavy grey coat
Breathing heat in my closet
In here.

I like to run my fingers on it
I like to feel the heavy fabric
And dream of a recurrence
Of days of cold and beds of refuge
I like to toy with hollow coins
I keep "forgotten" in its pockets
And feign a hope for days of cold
When I will worm in it again.

Black leather coats for killing
Short polyester jackets
For the blend-ins
Even a corduroy for the half-life
All known to bitter-brained historians
But there's a grey coat, waiting
For the endtimes to pass
For when there will be peril and cause
And things left to lose
A grey battlesuit that's madness-proof
It calls to the failure of sunlight
And the sheperdless stars.

I look at my grey armor
And moments do come
When I yearn for a present
Someone worth the shelter
Sometimes worth a try
Moments do come
When I can't wait
To unsheathe my will
A knight between the ends
And wear my suit of sorrow.