Something Haunts the Moon
Something haunts the moon's face I cannot fathom now
Something I should trace, but cannot put into place
A silence that quietly sleeps on that beautiful brow
A hint of sadness veiled by the brightness of her grace
Is it the little star, bright and following closely behind
Is it the memory of death, picture of a missing child
Something more is there, and to which my soul is blind
Something about the moon tonight ... a thought exiled
Like me on foreign shores, like my heart for God's heaven
Pining the journey to make it back again, to find
My origin without myth or emptiness of the airy leaven
Orbited by days and shriveling sun, I ever pine
To escape time's orbit that recycles me over the same
Mountains and valleys and salt threshing seas
Again and again, and keep me cold in shivering flame
How much will I know, how far can I get on bended knees?
O moon, something here that does not meet the eye
Tonight, something you but cannot share, something sure
Of our life, beauty is a thin disguise for our permit to die
Exiled in mortal bodies, we long for something more.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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