Analysis of By the Light of the Moon

By the Light of the Moon

The moon stands in its own milky sea
 The long ages know no other light as its own
 It's reckless light waxing, wading, always retreating
 To some dark pit where nightmares swallow
 Each dream in silhouettes and shadows
 Thirstfully I remember your hands
 How often they clasped my own
 You were my gentle moonlight
 In the deathless sea
 The richness of your fingers
 The love of voiceless reason
 Here upon my jaded lips I feel
 Your fading fingers
 The night is pregnant with your memory
 My mind is as the boundless starry
 Dreaming as I am prone to do of you
 Arguing with sanity I live for repetition
 Glowing in my inner eye, golden as the flames
 Of seafaring lighthouses
 Some nights you play the siren
 Driving me towards the careless shallows
 Others you are coy like the muse of poetry
 Budding in its time, leaving when most desired
 And yet still some nights you play the Pharisee
 Demanding the allegiance, you yourself decline
 Those nights I spout soliloquies
 To your absent hearing
 Then with ghostly fury you interpose your philosophy
 Trying for election, failing Socrates
 Yet I would have you just the same
 Beaming in your wonder
 In your ever altering ways
 Here you are surviving in my tragic mind
 Feeding on my sadness like a bitter wine.