I cannot prove the moon is there,
Nor measure its pale,pulling light.
I only know the empty air
Feels different on a moonless night.
I cannot prove the ocean's deep,
With charts and lines and sounding lead.
I only know the restlessness it keeps
Is calling from my blood and bed.
I cannot prove you are the one,
No theorem etched in stone or star.
I only know,when day is done,
The silence tells me where you are.
So let them seek for solid ground,
For fingerprints and facts and lies.
My love is not a truth yet found,
But one I learn to recognize.
It is the great and aching need,
The safe house in a world of scorn,
The terrifying,lovely seed
From which all other truths are born.
Nov 10, 2025
Nov 10, 2025 at 9:09 AM UTC
I cannot prove the moon is there,
Nor measure its pale,pulling light.
I only know the empty air
Feels different on a moonless night.
I cannot prove the ocean's deep,
With charts and lines and sounding lead.
I only know the restlessness it keeps
Is calling from my blood and bed.
I cannot prove you are the one,
No theorem etched in stone or star.
I only know,when day is done,
The silence tells me where you are.
So let them seek for solid ground,
For fingerprints and facts and lies.
My love is not a truth yet found,
But one I learn to recognize.
It is the great and aching need,
The safe house in a world of scorn,
The terrifying,lovely seed
From which all other truths are born.
Request permission to use this poem