The many changing faces
Of the lone and gloomy moon
Glow fiercer with fire
Against the backdrop of black.
The trouble with this space is
That the end is coming soon,
Although she’s climbing higher,
I am not satisfied with that.
She’s leaving me alone to face it:
The solitary room–
Darkened with the damned desires
From the sky that’s raining black.
I knew I couldn’t grow complacent
With the brightly shining noon,
Because one day the stars they would conspire
To rip away what they had trapped.
But a crescent shows that I can make it
Through this phase clear into June.
I told myself, but I’m a liar,
I won’t survive as if it’s fact.
The rays fall down upon my naked
Flesh that fears impending doom.
Enough to soothe a sulken cryer
Whose entire journey had been mapped.
Returns! the many faces
Of the newly minted moon
That glows with forces fueled by fire
Against a dotted backdrop painted black.
*This is a personal poem not affiliated with any news item of the day