Poem

THE MISTY MOON

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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