The Man In The Moon

Soul Poetry



He's a mysterious soul,

that Moon-
playing hide-n-seek
with my senses,
darting in and out
this clouded life
of overcast
and stormy nights.


On tide-set scheduals,
he fills and empties,
most times,
leaving me only feeling
half full
and wanting more.


He's ever watchful,
ever vigilant
in his nightly guarding
of my soul,
keeping me illuminated
when wistful longings
for things too far out of grasp
consume me.


He over-shadows
my wayward thoughts
with his lunar-minded tone
and tethers me to this place
when wishes for wings
would otherwise
take me upwards.


Ever the dependable one,
in this,
my life of uncertainty,
he soothes my hurts
with illuminating care,
washing clean,
my disconsolate spirit,
with his aura of purity.


So lost would I be,
were it not
for his reliable presence.
He's become the only thing
I know I can count on,
after relentless night.



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