deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Moon's Gone Away
It's black.
Freezing.
Fingers type numb and my feet only exist every other moment.
I am arrested by the lights.
Those small, persisting spots.
And the wondrous thing that is slowly swallowed out of my view.
And I think of how fleeting it can all be.
How easily, passively that orb was taken.
How I watched curiously.
How I could only watch.
Oh, how things change.
Oh, how things disappear.
Oh, how I cling to this last sliver of silver.
Stay with me.
I don't want to be alone.
At least might I sleep a while?
So as to avoid being without you.
Tapestry of the sky.
Of the Heavens themselves.
Why must you go?
Can I not speak with you for an eternity?
You do not judge.
You are a friend.
Your darkness.
And your light.
I take it all as comfort.
You hide your face behind a veil of deep red now.
And I am still entwined.
Still helpless to do else but watch.
And even your mask is fleeting.
Hello?
You do not answer.
You never have.
You never needed to.
You who are a reflection of myself.
Myself, who I have forgotten by now.
My body, resting in the chill.
My mind is elsewhere, with you.
With the bloodmoon.
With this ocean of stars.
With dear friends.
Where are they?
Some sit gazing up, by my side in spirit.
Some lie sleeping in their beds, broken by the day.
Some a moment away.
Some a lifetime.
Yet here I see them all.
Carried with me.
In my words.
Thoughts.
Actions.
Writing style.
They fill me.
They are me.
They are the lights in my sky.
I look at the shapes.
The patterns.
Trace them together.
I wonder if there's something more than us.
Than humanity.
Than my circle of friends and family.
If that even matters.
I weep, that death is merciless.
And I weep that change is all too unkind.
The sky will change.
And we can't stop it.
We can't make it.
Can we force reality to shift?
Or do we merely observe?
As unseen power moves all around us.
What was it that veiled your face?
Can I set you free, by will, by act, by accident?
The horizon simmers a pale red.
I will wait for her light.
Among other things, I promise myself.
Freezing.
Fingers type numb and my feet only exist every other moment.
I am arrested by the lights.
Those small, persisting spots.
And the wondrous thing that is slowly swallowed out of my view.
And I think of how fleeting it can all be.
How easily, passively that orb was taken.
How I watched curiously.
How I could only watch.
Oh, how things change.
Oh, how things disappear.
Oh, how I cling to this last sliver of silver.
Stay with me.
I don't want to be alone.
At least might I sleep a while?
So as to avoid being without you.
Tapestry of the sky.
Of the Heavens themselves.
Why must you go?
Can I not speak with you for an eternity?
You do not judge.
You are a friend.
Your darkness.
And your light.
I take it all as comfort.
You hide your face behind a veil of deep red now.
And I am still entwined.
Still helpless to do else but watch.
And even your mask is fleeting.
Hello?
You do not answer.
You never have.
You never needed to.
You who are a reflection of myself.
Myself, who I have forgotten by now.
My body, resting in the chill.
My mind is elsewhere, with you.
With the bloodmoon.
With this ocean of stars.
With dear friends.
Where are they?
Some sit gazing up, by my side in spirit.
Some lie sleeping in their beds, broken by the day.
Some a moment away.
Some a lifetime.
Yet here I see them all.
Carried with me.
In my words.
Thoughts.
Actions.
Writing style.
They fill me.
They are me.
They are the lights in my sky.
I look at the shapes.
The patterns.
Trace them together.
I wonder if there's something more than us.
Than humanity.
Than my circle of friends and family.
If that even matters.
I weep, that death is merciless.
And I weep that change is all too unkind.
The sky will change.
And we can't stop it.
We can't make it.
Can we force reality to shift?
Or do we merely observe?
As unseen power moves all around us.
What was it that veiled your face?
Can I set you free, by will, by act, by accident?
The horizon simmers a pale red.
I will wait for her light.
Among other things, I promise myself.
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