Moon and Me

A poem by Melody

It was the moon,

not pale-faced and insipid,

but luminous and holy, that transfixed me tonight;

the way it rubbed the underside of clouds;

and needed no choir of angels to herald it.

(There could have been angels,

and it would have been appropriate).

I kept looking over my shoulder at the radiant circle-

I kept checking that the moment hadn’t passed,

that I was still held in the cold air,

a distant correspondent of the moon:

me, a pale-faced, insipid girl,

looking up at the bold, enduring orb.

 

I asked myself a question –

(the moon seeded it in my heart…)

“why do I make it complicated?”

For at that moment I saw it – I saw the Simple Thing:

to do what is natural;

to do what is my-self;

to do what I have been doing,

what I have dismissed –

That is all.

The Simple Thing.

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