We keep our eyes closed deeply
Traipsing into the severed night.
Pandora's box of thoughts
Invades our mind's delight.
Yet even when earthly eyelashes
Capture tears
From the insomnia of the moon
We oft forget to ask about her.
It is the sun's turn to loom.
One night I'll prop my elbows by the window
And wonder with my eyes:
What's lurking in your shadows, moon,
Leading to your silent cries?
Answer she may, or she may not
That is not why I ask.
I hope to bring her fullness back
So she may shine at last.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC
We keep our eyes closed deeply
Traipsing into the severed night.
Pandora's box of thoughts
Invades our mind's delight.
Yet even when earthly eyelashes
Capture tears
From the insomnia of the moon
We oft forget to ask about her.
It is the sun's turn to loom.
One night I'll prop my elbows by the window
And wonder with my eyes:
What's lurking in your shadows, moon,
Leading to your silent cries?
Answer she may, or she may not
That is not why I ask.
I hope to bring her fullness back
So she may shine at last.
Request permission to use this poem