-11.02.2023-
What counts for moonlight? I Wonder
As if one day should it matter to me.
Is it The pale skin of a lonely boulder
Drifting purposefully in prescribed routes?
Or it's an extra bit of reward after arduous
Devotions one delightedly undertaken.
Of course, we romanticized underdogs
To have a fancier fantasy. Wistfully saying,
It's an ethereal belonging beyond reality
In which each tiny piece's mood is soothed.
Reasonable and counterintuitive, though,
As a meaningful business, they chase.
While to receive a shed from moonlight
Demands no effort, I say.
It hangs in the sky. It travels in radiance.
More of like those diving in their own
Course. Just like the sun should do –
In a sense. Well, it doesn't match so much
To our rationals. The sun burns relentlessly,
And the moon freezes, relentlessly as well.
In fact, maybe it does matter to me.
Not in vain, but the simple harsh truth.
There's one thing in common between
The sun and moonlight I tried to deny.
Yet, I have to admit their indispensable nature
To my life.
So, let it be moon or moonlight? The latter
Seems somehow a void in the shadow despite its sheen.
This exact nothingness coins moonlight's luring side;
Turning a barren land in space to be my sun.
Heads up and bask in the grace
Of not light but solid flesh
Who claim moonlight in still whites-
That ivory and transparent box of architecture
Should shine for her the same as I was shone-
Who my moonlight lay.
Someday, someday, I will no longer do so
Get out there, the dreamy bobbles
And let
Brokes to end the story.
For now, a greedy "relax" grasped my eyes.
Not a question, I did know what counts for moonlight.
The ideal life to stand white - who claim the moon
To unite the balloons, floating astray,
Scattered all over the place.
--"When is there a moon, miles across, immersed in the same light."
I found comfort, the least, broken in this touching mood.
Denied this mood, as it's too far away from the moon's side.
Everything on earth should rest on earth.
Everything inside should be solved inside,
Without resorting to that innocent moonlight
Who stays pure.
Indeed, I did ask and answered for no reason,
As if the process itself could dominate fraught heathen
Where my mind melts, and moonlight lit
Would then get hidden from the explorative second order.
In a sense, it did so - for seconds -
And then it all came back inexorably;
And my words could not return to track.
Can we acknowledge to do so? - Would Moonlight feel betrayed?
If she can tell the difference -
Silently or not.
Then what should be pursued? The moon or moonlight?
Or others that were substantially noticed?
When burning sunshine engulfs the measle silvery
Every morning, no loss on the former two nobles
Where pseudo eternity takes place compared to
My untenable whims vanishing in the heat.
Looking at the moon and extracting from the moonlight
Still, taken away not their mood but solo heal
Burdening not my letters but stress to compare
With all the space's offerings.
Asking for the difference is never mistaken,
But asking for nothingness may marvel nonetheless.
So--What counts for moonlight?
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