moon [face]

the rough patch above

the corner of my lip

is fate’s conjuring

warning me

but i walk back

to face my

disheveled appearance

once again.

my honey eyes

onyx and fire-like

my skin

with the time ticking beneath

the world

is both feared and fears

the colour that it sees

while it sheds

the same red

underneath.

the rough patch i think is the desert

motioning to me

but every so often

the red sea

falls and

slips past my teeth

my tongue cannot bear

the saltiness

of my despair

and the earth still finds

the strength

to dream and hope and believe

and i am stuck in an endless

cycle

of grief

if i look to the moon

i face my past.

the same moon,

my face once stared at:

the child, i was

looked and looked

sought and fought

pushed the ones

who pushed the stars

out of my line of sight.

i counted the stars at last

seven to twenty-one

the moon still full

the moon still one

my face is now old and tired

and i wonder why you choose

to see

and dare

call me

the moon of your dreams.

and

if i am a piece of the moon

i am so far

and

if i am a piece of the earth

i am so belittled

my own face

is time’s visage

i do not understand this art

but i, somehow,

but i, nonetheless,

continue

to live on.

with the brave. with the praise.

with the guidance.

with right and with virtue.

with the beauty of every moon.

with the compassion of every sun.

with every face, fate gifted me:

i continue,

i continue,

this journey of heart.

with struggle and strength,

does my dear soul part.

to the world and time, beyond

to the space and love, above

i continue,

i continue

on.

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