Misty is the moon in the night sky,

When night fails to overturn to day in my eyes.

And as the tears stream down my face, unclean-

Those beams of the moon become misty to me.

Mysterious moonshine conveys her secrets to me;

As I lay asleep in a bed by the window screen;

It seems she screams out my name with her light;

But misty is she when I fall asleep to a dream.

Digging her way through my dreams, eyes and screen,

She begins to tell her misery to me;

Alone in the sky she pleads with the night-

Take her out of my sight, for her light is not bright.

It has dimmed with the wars and torn out hearts;

And for now, she says, I wish to leave this world, or I shall be torn a part.

My misery, she says, is not that I have dimmed;

My misery, she whispers, is I can not light them up again.

So replace me with Eros or Mercury,

Give peace back unto me-

And when eyes open after ceaseless dreams-

Moon is still there, miserable and mistily eerie.

Footer: The photo I took for this poem is of the actual moon, but I was inspired by Van Gough’s classic Starry Night when I did my editing. 🙂

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