Moon

When the moon rises is it time to feast? To indulge ourselves in the sweet and unsavory? Does the moon being high give us permission to be what goes bump in the night and take another’s life? Will the moon smile in the face of a howl? Does it shed a tear to the symphony of gunshots? Will it care if we are all still here in 5 years’ time? 10? 20? 200? Grown in the night will it listen to our goodnight prayers? Or is this all just a playground of small clumsy children, waddling about, watched by Mother Moon? Does she guard us in the night or settle in with popcorn for a cackle? Does her dark side fall under its own moon? Is she separate from the evil vs. good nature debate? Does she cry when she is sad? Has there been a broken heart? Another to whom created the craters so elegantly etched into her armor? Is she strong to show off her scars or just a fool? Will the tears come down onto her as water from the heavens or acid made by hades? Her agony is displayed but does she know the system to which she belongs? Did she choose to orbit with the others or did they use her scars against her? Does she rotate in her grief or let the anti-gravity relieve her of her struggles? When she looks down does she see me reflecting up to her? Or am I just another, tripping, falling, flailing on the playground desperate to hide my scars, destined to indulge in the sweet and unsavory?

Author's Note

Let me know what you think and I'll review yours!