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Moon

The moon is a glowing planet, white,
encircled with clouds of mystic grey,
trapped in the darkness of the night,
as sound now sleeps and silence lay.

The day has passed a blink ago,
the darkness spread its shadowy wings,
the night now lingers, hours slow,
the wind in all its wonder sings.

above the far horizon, the moon rising high,
it’s pale of joy, or pale of fear,
as it takes each drifting step,
into the darkened sky.

Are you a prince that rules the night?
Are you a prisoner locked away?
Are you a traveller seeking light?
Are you a piece of the shining day?

I look up at the sky,
to fill my eyes with stars,
and yet I hear you cry,
like the echo’s of a thousand wars.

I called the wind to tell me,
what is it that you keep?
if only you could hear me,
why is it that you weep?

And yet as many nights I wait,
the silence still lays deep,
as hours pass and near is late,
your secrets still you keep.

You are an eye that views the earth,
a sickle made of white,
that widens with each new night birth,
a glowing planet, white.
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Submitted on May 02, 2011

1:01 min read
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    "Moon" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 27 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/78788/moon>.

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