Dear Moon,
You looked beautiful tonight.
The kind of beauty
That grabs all eyes
and insists that they pay you attention.
But moon,
tell me,
are you lonely up there?
The infinity of stars that lay
scattered in your presence,
seem as if they could be pleasant company,
but is it all an illusion?
The stars trick the foolish
into thinking that they are in your
constant amity.
That’s what it looks like to us, Moon.
But those stars have never uttered one word to you
have they?
Immeasurable distances
make conversing quite difficult,
I would imagine.
Are you sad, Moon?
Is it distressing, Luna,
that us,
the ignorant,
believe that just because
our eyes see the stars in a way that
makes us believe they are near to you,
that you are not hurting?
Child of the night
who lives solitarily.
Do you weep?
Do you shed tears that we mistake
for beauty against the vast night sky?
Daughter of the dark,
who graces all with her
entrancing despondency,
Was there ever a time when you
had hope that somebody,
anybody
would save you from your fate?
Do you feel forsaken my love?
What have you done, Moon,
that would condemn you to this
paradoxically poetic reality?
You didn’t want this.
You only wanted to shed awe upon us,
and light the path home when it got
too dark.
And what have you gotten in return?
Isolation.