Loving by Moon

Death is cradled in the moon’s fair and dewy arms Her wet, ebony hair is entangled into the tightly bound mesh of nothingness So many people fear her and worship her but I feel like I could touch her Fly by a flock of doves Put my hands against her cold, breathless cheeks Give her warmth to wake Lift her eyelids and let me see Real beauty Feel a dull ghostliness instantly consume my body I am not afraid To face her burdensome heart Reveal her weary eyes! those— Miraculous, Smaragdine cordilleras upon emeralds in the earth I must see the glowing entity in the hollow between two blue, swimming hills I’m searching and desperate and I see it—it is truth It is death It is life It is devotion It is love I touch it—It’s gentle and crying and angry and hurting and affectionate It wants to love and love dearly and passionately despite our Common fates It desires to Understand that fate It must be some type of human Moon, she may not have the heart to feel my sentiments or Hear me shouting, not my hysterical nonsense Not even my happiness She may be blind and stupid Yet, perhaps, I see fervor waxed around that idle heart A delicate, human soul in those eyes If I dare to seek it