Moonlight
A man whose name is of little importance,
whose clothes are but the exterior of his never ending layers,
his action self defining
quiet and innocent in nature,
aggressive yet kind when necessary.
His brilliance not that of the sun
A sun that blinds all who gaze in awe at his feats
but rather of the moon; a moon that shines
Allowing others to gaze and follow his light
on starless nights that seen never ending.
His light a fuel
for worn down cars with no direction.
This man who's made of little importance,
Guides those who stumble and fall on crippled roads.
This man whose name is of little importance,
Perfect, he will never be.
He struggles,
He falsely smiles,
Yet he shines so brightly
inside this starless night that has battered and torn man,
because that is what he chooses to be.
This man whose name is of little importance,
Paves his own path
Leaving a traces of light behind
Fueling empty vessels to do the same.
This man whose name is of little importance…
Has a name.
Copyright © Shadow Poet | Year Posted 2014
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