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. 🙂