The moon stood
as an eye
from the cloud drifting sky,
looking down on
little lives
of smiles and frowns,
seeming to hear
the fragile tales
of beings
told in
small hopes and dreams
and petty schemes.
The grey ghosted orb
speaks its
silent dull words
to souls that
would hear
without delusion or fear,
about knowing the
truth of living and dying
on this
circle of rock
in a distant place
among the darkness of space.
1/7/2015