A Conversation with the Moon

Moonlight through my window
And falling on my bed,
Keeping me awake,
Despite my tired head.

Playing in the treetops
And skipping through the sky,
Landing on my face,
And dancing in my eye.

I question the moon
And why it mocks me so,
Why it won't let me sleep
'Til the morning of tomorrow.

The moon stares back
Through my window at my naked body,
Somehow chills the air,
And somehow shivers me.

I question the moon
And why it cools me so,
Why it won't let me lie in peace
Beneath the stars' halcyon glow.

The moon hides for me to seek
And dashes behind a cloud,
And answers not my query
But peeks out from behind its shroud.

I question the moon
And why it toys with me so,
Why in its silly little games
I must unwillingly go.

The moon shines bright
And continues ever-strong
To torment and torture me,
To make my restlessness long.

I question the moon
And why it must play at the expense of my night,
Why it won't let me slumber in my comfortable bed.
And the moon finally replies...by simply laughing at my worthless life.

---

Originally written:    May 7, 2001; December 15, 2001
Put online:    December 30, 2001
Discussion:    This poem merely deals with feelings of insignificance, the gnawing feelings of dread and emptiness when you awaken with a start at 3:00 in the morning, alone, and bathed in a cold sweat.


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