Beneath the Moon's Testament
Written: July 10, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
*****************
Under night's bruised, breathless veil,
moon unties its silver silence—slow, aglow—
over lost tunes whose secret voices linger.
Thirsting roots reach upward, inward,
while spectral knots retain quiet chronicles,
older than the names our voices know.
Winter kneels beneath its weeping skies;
its pale prayers pour through frozen air,
silver moon and sapphire sun caress Earth,
as still water gathers stars without a sound.
Each gleam a dream, each beam a silver seam,
stitching horizon's tear to a single breath.
Its thin beams weave into tree trunks,
shades groan and shudder from broken trees,
moon hides as clouds clip its bright arcs,
they may bend the bone of ancient oaks.
However, unsaid covenants prevail, unbroken,
with those who dwell below the moon.
The dead shore listens without language;
sleeping silt swaddles forgotten names.
Still the moon lays down its luminous hands—
upon the dust, the rust, the fractured hush,
until even broken stones remember,
the bright grammar of becoming light.
Clouds float, lift, and split at night.
Darkness absorbs starfire from afar;
Where silence once was, little choirs sing.
The moon has neither crown nor throne.
Only the calm no tempest can carry away,
the humble art of illumination, given freely.
So stand beneath its steadfast, silver gaze;
confess no fear that darkness cannot soften.
Again it returns—serene, unseen, yet ever near—
white over gain, over grave, over wave,
writing its quiet scripture across turning earth,
until each wandering heart recalls their way home.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
