I love your beams,
Your shimmer and shine.

I love your waves;
you push the tides with your wane,
casting your reflection
upon our Ocean tides.

I love your fullness
and your curves are so divine.

I love your dusty ways,
I find you beautiful, mysterious,
elegant, and callus
in your concrete state of change.

To the moon,
I have confessed my darkest fears,
You never laughed
nor judged me,
You always lent me your ear.

You listened to my poetry,
Without biasing; you took no attempt
to change my formatting​
to conform to your comfort
and perfection.

You are a poem,
waiting to be written.

Ode to your beautiful format,
your haiku breathes heavily upon
my sky, reminding me to keep writing.

To the moon and back again.

**© By Amanda D Shelton

Caught in-between a hard problem and a tragedy,
one which all thoughts conceive a calumny.

False religious declarations brought hope, a preconceived act, with all past failures examined and attacked, like a quasi-contract.

How can infinite knowledge and power create such hate, terror, and pain, similar to a suicide pact?

How does one find their own avenue? Without being stuck in the heart with a corkscrew?

Is personal discovery extinct? Do we forget the past, subconsciously ensure the failures of our future, and presently live with no imprint?

Is individuality impossible?

The characteristics are defined and distinct, but each soul's technique is quietly fluttering away from this lost mystique.

Discover the reality of you, rise up, revolt, and fight the deceitful greed and promised happiness brewed in realities poisonous stew, as it's faithful traits of trust, love, and care that create our optimistic views.

To be happy; an outdated phrase soon to be extinct.

When the downfall of morality can unfold in a blink, as we subconsciously conjure a future drearily bleak.

I saw the world as it is,
cried my soul away
Wrapped my skin in shadows
a gift, unto the night
Sunset is my dress
The moon holds what remains of my
soul
Falling stars and dew drops
few shimmers gone
unseen
The only silence found,
in the song of falling rain
Sunset colours caress me,
night, my stage
Whispers in the gloaming
from sweet cicadas
And still, I see the world
cry my soul to the moon

Living in a world with no honest leader.
Every single day comes a new victor,
using the people's heart to paint the picture of fear.

When will we escape the rampant greed running amuck?
Become our own leaders and stop giving a ****.

When asked questions like these, the defenders only have a mouthful.
The reins of power should be in the hands of the masses,
known as the powerful.

They shake at night with terrors of their past.
They finally understand they have worn a fake mask.

When will we stop eating from a government feeder?
Finally equalize and balance the power teeter.
We must, living in a world with no honest leader.