The Man In the Moon
The sun is distant now; lowering its gaze upon me to a mere blanket of obscurity.
The sea is calm but still tantalisingly sinister and threatening.
The silence is hostile, I am cold and alone - each breath I take is an intricate requisite.
I am sceptical, burdened with misplaced ideals, unconvinced I will ever unearth the vitality within myself.
Kneeling on the edge of my own existence, I wait for a voice to utter my path,
The man in the moon offers me a reluctant and hesitant grin as he watches over me. I'm too incompetent to counter the gesture.
My inability in offering a tear is poignant for us both - He understands me. It is beautiful.
Copyright © Leigh Stephenson | Year Posted 2018
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