The moon deserves a poem
Yet, I can’t find words
For its hold on me.
I see it rise in the darkening night
Appearing as a crescent sliver
Changing to a full shining sphere
Whose brightness lights up the sky
And my dreams.
Whose waxing and waning
Marks time and controls the tides
And fuels my imagination.
I saw a man walk on the moon once
But my spacewalk is of another kind.
When the moon is round
And mysterious patches of land
Map its glowing surface
I am transported on a magic carpet
To craters in my soul
Or spirited away to friendly shores
Where demons are drenched in diamond dust
And I find rest
In the grace of its gentle light.
At night, after each new day,
The moon is my quiet place.
When the evening descends
It shines brighter than all the stars
Its lush beams bringing peace
Casting a mood for loving
Over all the earth
Signaling a time
For that other world
That opens up with sleep
To have its sway.
When I seek light to fill my being,
It is not the sun’s rays I invite in
But the moon’s beams
Purifying, healing, holy,
So far away and yet, so close.