The Moon

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.




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