The moon turns

The moon turns

Its face away

A glimmer of love

Covered in tinfoil

A disguise of fools

And miscreants

Halfway bound in tragedy

Lost on the road

Finding a way to paradise

Before we have found

Ourselves.

All are bound

To endure

The scream of endeavour

Powerless against

The torment of hope

The burden of tolerance

So few

Among us

Discover navigation

Lost on the highways

And by-ways.

The sky a deepening well

Brimmed in stars

More bounteous

Than wishes

Dreams are more than

An unconscious desire

To seek resolution.

As the moon turns

Its dark side

A weather eye

Nothing remains hidden

All is revealed

To be forsaken

Unready.

To be forgotten

Is a tragedy of nature.

To seek order in chaos

Without sympathy,

Is as relevant

As any philosophical

Declaration

Of intent

To find our way.

In the shadow of

A waning moon

All fools are equal.