A Seldom Moon

At the awe inspiring moment when skies open to reveal 

the precious purity bestowed in lines at night, the 

memories of passion’s entertained scrawl in the minds

of little stars sparkling underneath a moonlight deep 

in concentrated exhaltation. 

 To be young, to be won over by the majesty of eyes

prized from within their lingering soul, in the dash of 

Autumn colours where fog and mist triples the density 

of dreaming. A heart made of this fabric, silken wool 

tethered onto the paintings of an artist’s daily capsualted

stardom. Beautiful in everything, rich in the likeness to 

a darkened dancehall, globes streaming all night for the 

wishes retained in the soft chorus of white dove singers. 

Forever in the shadows of the eclipse, a moon so 

effortless in its shining wonder. Gleaming down through

peering eyes, pierced and unforgiving. Half lost but 

sparkling still as if to run protector to a shattered sky. 

Taken from its core to galaxies revelled in an afternoon’s 

foresaking. To a place unlike any other, unknown to its 

fierce and folding caution. 

 A seldom moon, half soul-ed face, templates beneath 

its torture, bright in its burning. A seldom moon, locked

into love with consumate arms folded in the peace of a 

generation’s brave desires. Simplicity remarked for all

eternity to copy in its fullest light, a darkened rush 

transfered into the hush of a next morning’s looming sight. 

 

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