Slipping, always slipping into the night
I thought I had captured the sun
But in my hands I held the reflection

When I look at the moon, I feel someone looking back.  
He, something, knows how lonely I am.
I turn around; I cannot shake the sense
That standing
Just to my back
Was someone watching me watch the moon,
Helping me to hold you
In my heart.

I live on the moon.
Rocketed here last noon.
A Running Away
because of my mind and child's play.

I spend all day
building people
Out of moon-dust clay.
An army, A steeple
All without pay.

This is my punishment:
Slash at the sun,
Smell not a single scent,
And see no one
made of anything but clay.