THE MOON CHILD

It hangs as a ball in an azure sky
Bobbing in an ocean of blue ether,
Buoyed on pink candy-floss clouds:
And as the sun sets on the darkening 
Globe below, the all-seeing moon
Stares at the world which bore it,
And thinks that Mother Earth
Is burning like a sun, suffering
From the heat of its diurnal rival
And melting into barrenness
From the excesses of a deadly
Parasite:  Man.
And if it could cry  it would and
Drown the fires with tears of sorrow;
It would scream to eternity
Of life wasted and for its loss.
It would blow cooling breath
on the deserts and poles 
And scratch out
The infestation,
Which is killing
Its mother.






Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

When I began to write this poem, I began to write about the beauty in the sky but my feelings about the raging fires in California; encroaching deserts and warming poles are so intense I began to personify the moon and feel its loss as though we are killing its mother.

Crepuscular enlightenment

 

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As the day draws to a close

On a day full of stresses

And frustrations,

My mind is in turmoil.

Hard to end the day with such negativity.

But I look through the window

To the darkening sky

And crepuscular rays

Enlighten the darkness

And lead me to know

That there is enlightenment

And tomorrow can be different.

 

Photo and poem copyright to Englepip ©

via Daily Prompt: Enlighten