I am the Moon.
Yes-it's cliche,
Every person, poet, and author who has ever cared
To understand the night sky has become,
Undoubtedly, the moon,
But I really am,
I feel.
It seems sometimes I move as Her
I rose in the wrong part of the sky with Her
that night the neon signs disgusted me.
I sometimes stare full-faced at the earth
And despite the darkness I see- SHINE, SHINE,
and SHINE
Until exhausted, I step down for the Sun
To keep lit what I can't anymore.
I return again but turn
My face, afraid to focus fully
On the ground- at what I'll soon be leaving,
Letting down.
Instead, I keep the earth in my peripherals
And give light without hearing the darkness,
Until, once again, I step down
For The Son
To make light what I can't anymore.
