The moon shining above tells me of
All the wisps of love it's caught
Over time.
It tells me of the way it
Catches, and tucks them away, hidden,
But not unseen.
The small wisps, the beauties-collect
Become the moon.
In between the moon and the watery-eyed
Seas edge is an image painted;
The colors of which,
Being so lost and tangled,
Leave me with no definable
Impression of what this image may be.
These eyes gaze upon the trailing sweeps
Of motionless,
Beautiful color
(Defined by the seas edge, defined by the moon)
And know
That enshrouded within it's lost self
Is the destroying hope
The crushing substance of life
That no man dare invent
Hath conceived.
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