Last Moon

Last Moon


When the last moon fades,

We will be the poorer for it:

No more silvan nights,

Or glades glittering in moonlit dew,

No more frosts gleaming lighted,

Or colors humbled to varying grays.

 

When the last moon dims,

The tides will slow,

And rocks unpolished litter the shore.

No more bottles bearing tidings drift,

Or twisted wood land gentle beached.

No more crashing surf roar,

Or lapping waves to call your spirit to peace.

 

When the last moon lowers,

Will the stars remain,

Or will she gather her children,

And steal them away,

Leaving us in a total obscure,

And lost in the dark.

 

When the last moon pales,

Will we mourn the loss,

Or will we be already adrift,

Misplaced in time and space,

Driven by ambitions we never understood,

And succumbed to in ignorance.

 

When the last moon darkens,

We will know what we have lost,

A magic we too long took as granted,

A gift we could not fashion ourselves.

When the last moon fades,

Will we know it is gone,

Or will it already be too late?

 

When the last moon shines,

Would you want to know?

 

Cliff Lake 9/27/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

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