oh moon!

Oh moon, that I could be awake for you more often. Curse this body, dragged by the rising and the setting of the sun like yoked oxen to a cart full of stones. Moon you sing inside my unquiet skull and spill out pale light that illuminates the great bloody and bruised veil of this world. Sylvia watched you shadow the yew tree and I watch you pierce the evergreens. Moon you calm me. You cast the light that prepares us for death, when we go up, up, up. Moon if it wasn't for you I would think death was the end and plants never sleep. Moon I long to lie naked beneath you. Awake, awake! Moon I am not a ghost and yet I am. The fire of mind a cool flame. Moon I would write you a song if I could play, if I could sing. Were you really part of the Earth once, did you cry when you were violently pulled out, your birth fiery and eons of slow cooling following? Your light is pale but not cold. The sun creates shadows but you give those shadows a place to rest. So many gifts moon, and I who understand so little, have only these meager words to offer. Oh moon take these words, this lost prayer. Oh moon, oh moon, oh moon!