The Moon shines on in my eyes.
The air is cold and crisp on the face.
The luminescent pale face overcomes all disguise.
Three circles affection; forms for to trace.

My muse is made perfect for such a moment
and my saunter slows to a stand, still stopped.
Bathed in the dark light; so pure is my atonement.
Yet the height of my desire has not dropped.

The depth has deepened, and the width has widened
to encase such a pure celestial sphere.
My soul has cast a requisite to be enlightened,
While yet derived and bereft with fear.

The face I loved is gone, and the nighttime clings so tight.
My moon, which is blue, has stolen my gaze... again,
to give a new face for me; the visage of night.
When the morning shall come I cannot tell. I know not when.

Yet in the turpentine of my misdirection it's best to stop and stair.
for where the wind blows, only the wanderer will care.
All of life is a circle, flawless yet unfair.