Under The Moon

If I can just rage
at the moon long
enough… I’m strong,
but maybe not
strong enough. Face
the longing, lost
love, found fear, I
sear within and
I know you’re near,
but I’m helpless
under the moon,

“Luna, I fear.”

Her pallid face
holds me in place,
waiting, watching
every move,
each, every
misstep I make.

“What does she want?”

Luna confounds,

“I gave my heart…
she refused it.”

Her tears… I howl,
fight, buck, and rear,
hoping to lure
her, curious,
near enough to
whisper in her
ear, my wishes,
hopes, and old fears.

“This will not work,”

I lament, shamed.

Nauseated, sick,
Luna’s rays, thick,
have soaked me, deep,
her poison seeps
through the linings
of heart, gut, soul.

Retching, up, out,
I spew doubts, a
toxic fountain,
of what was me.

Relieved, I looked
upon my ills,
where the black shine,
interrupted,
gave way, bubbling,
to a strange glow.
In turns, showing,
blue and then white,
frigid like ice,
yet still… warm, true.

“What have I found?”

This sphere, its shine,
came from my heart.

Hidden deep, it
had been the part
that gathered up
hate, fear, and loss,
crushing, earth heat,
inside of me,
these sands, compressed,
became my pearl.

“A lesson learned.”

There’s not enough
sorrow left to
make another,
so I’ll set it
in gold, a band,
pearly Moonsand,
and attempt to
slip it, at last,
upon Luna’s
gibbous left hand.


©️ CGT, 2018.

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