today i admired the moon once again
on my way home. it was a cloudless night,
just as years ago, the same steps, the
same path, the same old thing. however,
that same luminous glow of the moon was
much gentler, much more loving and soothing
as compared to back then, its light no longer
glaringly icy as if it could cut steel; but it was
as warm as if it could melt the frost around
my heart, encasing me in a past never forgotten,
its unloving grasp pulling me in, sinking in, drowning.
my hands finally unravelling the red threads
binding me to fears, insecurities, delusions, regret,
guilt; as i raise my hand up one last time
and remember,
the same scenery, the same path,
You were born when the raging seas go quiet
When the 7 oceans saw the moon & get calmed
You were born when the night sung to the wild
sweet lullabies.
When the lions and beasts slept just as the stars sighed.
You were born when sun and rain held hand
And began together their slow dance
That's why I tell you, you belong to Peace
Madness is your father but you look like patience .
For you take your image after
your beautiful mother.
You guessed it right.
Yes.
You are silence.
On top of a mountain
Looking down on Green Valley,
The desert sun shines,
The the prairie dogs run wild.
Its hot and its dry,
And though you left us behind,
I still feel you with me
Looking down on Green Valley.
Standing on a balcony,
Looking down on Tuscon's city lights,
The desert moon shines,
The stars glow like wild fire.
Theres a beautiful night sky,
And though you left us behind,
I still feel you with me,
Standing on that balcony.
My half moon heart
Knows that healing takes time
Maybe one day
Somebody will look at me
Like I am the sun that their world revolves around.
But until then,
I will remain as cool
And as distant as the moon.
I know it's lonely in the darkness,
Though I doubt anyone has told you
You are the moon
Why would I chase the moon
When I have the audacity to chase what the moon is chasing?
When we locked up the house at night,
We always locked the flowers outside
And cut them off from window light.
The time I dreamed the door was tried
And brushed with buttons upon sleeves,
The flowers were out there with the thieves.
Yet nobody molested them!
We did find one nasturtium
Upon the steps with bitten stem.
I may have been to blame for that:
I always thought it must have been
Some flower I played with as I sat
At dusk to watch the moon down early.
The well was dry beside the door,
And so we went with pail and can
Across the fields behind the house
To seek the brook if still it ran;
Not loth to have excuse to go,
Because the autumn eve was fair
(Though chill), because the fields were ours,
And by the brook our woods were there.
We ran as if to meet the moon
That slowly dawned behind the trees,
The barren boughs without the leaves,
Without the birds, without the breeze.
But once within the wood, we paused
Like gnomes that hid us from the moon,
Ready to run to hiding new
With laughter when she found us soon.
I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air
Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster
As you might try a jewel in your hair.
I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of lustre,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water star almost as shining.
I put it shining anywhere I please.
By walking slowly on some evening later,
I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees,
And brought it over glossy water, greater,
And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow,
The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.
To think to know the country and not know
The hillside on the day the sun lets go
Ten million silver lizards out of snow!
As often as I’ve seen it done before
I can’t pretend to tell the way it’s done.
It looks as if some magic of the sun
Lifted the rug that bred them on the floor
And the light breaking on them made them run.
But if I thought to stop the wet stampede,
And caught one silver lizard by the tail,
And put my foot on one without avail,
And threw myself wet-elbowed and wet-kneed
In front of twenty others’ wriggling speed,--
In the confusion of them all aglitter,
And birds that joined in the excited fun
By doubling and redoubling song and twitter,
From where I lingered in a lull in March
Outside the sugar-house one night for choice,
I called the fireman with a careful voice
And bade him leave the pan and stoke the arch:
‘O fireman, give the fire another stoke,
And send more sparks up chimney with the smoke.’
I thought a few might tangle, as they did,
Among bare maple boughs, and in the rare
Hill atmosphere not cease to glow,
And so be added to the moon up there.
The moon, though slight, was moon enough to show
On every tree a bucket with a lid,
And on black ground a bear-skin rug of snow.
The sparks made no attempt to be the moon.
They were content to figure in the trees
As Leo, Orion, and the Pleiades.