There is a crack down my center
diremption black-balling an existential ease
The Moon knows who I am
sighing my name in her bending light
beaming to my tattered rim
Oh, lustrous bulb emblazoned in elevation
a sister to mine
she dangles in confidence
companionless, wandering among stars
and ever-changing, ricochet
between lunar phases evasive
Her metallic optimism calls to my insomniac iris, but
our stunning single source of light
does possess a polar
of two, where
a potent cynicism sleeps soundly
out of view, in
darkness everlasting
Pale in her weariness is she
scaling east to west, but
sabbatical she is not
for methodical hands protest in sway
But what would come of us if The Moon came
crashing
down?
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
There is a crack down my center
diremption black-balling an existential ease
The Moon knows who I am
sighing my name in her bending light
beaming to my tattered rim
Oh, lustrous bulb emblazoned in elevation
a sister to mine
she dangles in confidence
companionless, wandering among stars
and ever-changing, ricochet
between lunar phases evasive
Her metallic optimism calls to my insomniac iris, but
our stunning single source of light
does possess a polar
of two, where
a potent cynicism sleeps soundly
out of view, in
darkness everlasting
Pale in her weariness is she
scaling east to west, but
sabbatical she is not
for methodical hands protest in sway
But what would come of us if The Moon came
crashing
down?
A piece I wrote about living with bipolar disorder
