It was shallow water, rippling
a watery moon quivering
on the surface seen
It was night fire
burning water into steam
gray smoke screened
It was willful drowning
upon a lily bed of lies
parched a wilted garden
slowly withers, dies

I feel sorry for the moon for what he has to see every night.

The madness of people that only shows when the sun leaves.

I feel sorry for the moon, he cannot run away.

I'm too selfish to let him go.

I know he suffers from his undying love for the sun.

I know he whispers apologies in the night air hoping for the sun's forgiveness.

I know the sun will never listen.

I feel sorry for the moon for he is alone and can never live without the sun.

I feel sorry for the moon for the shame he carries on his back.

Heavy and hidden.

I'm falling for the moon and he will never know.

Laying here on the cusp of sleep
I am visited by visions of the young man I once was
What happened to that beautiful boy?
I miss that overwhelming positivity
the naive idealism
the undying spirituality
he was fearless in many ways
I am not that old but that boy is
a million miles away
and all that's left is me
in my body's shell that has gone hard and stale.  
I could learn from his example
But I survive better now...