Avast, white slip of moon.
Think you to carry the magic of your realm
into the vibrant day?
See you not the world bathed in light
Cast from the fiery hand of your strong brother,
That same orb of which you are a mere shadow, a vapor?
What good your pale print against bright blue sky?
Can your dreams persuade workers from their destiny?
Blush for shame.
Step aside for magnificence.
Quietly disappear and let reality show the way.
Still,
There is need for dreams to enchant our misery.
Tantalize us from our stupor.
Perhaps in our sleep we build the necessary castles
To sustain our blistered hand and lighten our weary load.
Dream on, little moon.
Bleed into the daylight.
Wrap us in softness.
Still us from our labors
So that we might hear Truth.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment