Cycles
The moon dances Her constant rhythm
Waxing, waning, full.
Waning, gone, waxing...
Forever in this continuous spin.
We do not differ so much from the Lady.
We continue our less elegant dances
Harm, apologize, grin.
Lose, frown, and harm from the pain.
And we begin the cycle anew, forever lost in our own naivety.
Perhaps, the sun will illuminate our ignorance.
And we will learn from our mistakes.
But until that graceful day,
we are doomed within our own cycles.
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.
