0 commentsI am the moon that refused to rise,
The placid reflection of lunar eyes
Whose lurid stare, like rising tides,
Tickles the Earth and then subsides.
I am the leafless winter tree:
My leaves I shed reluctantly;
An autumnal gale just set me free
To shiver and long for eternity.
I am the damp crepuscular cloud
That hovers, dark, heavy and proud,
That dares to defy the solar shroud
In whose fabric all life is endowed.
I am the lone and lonely light
That, shining, gives sight,
Yet remains, for all its might,
Blind to the eyelid’s plight.
I trace the border of sea and shore
To keep at bay that endless war;
Yet the battle’s ceaseless roar
Says I am all this, and nothing more.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011 8:20 AM
Written on a train to New York City
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