Monday 16 September 2013

The Moth




In her eyes
In her endless eyes
In her gentle, warm, endless eyes
Like the darkening sky
Lie sleeping galaxies, waterfalls
The moon itself.

Like her warmth, that haunts me still
She whispers to me sometimes
Between the sheets
Of an empty bed
Where she gathered me at dawn
And lay me down at night.

In cold of the night, where my will breaks again
The galaxies and stars are dying
The steel of words, melting
The broken string of her instrument
That rings no more.

So I recede
In her eyes
In her endless eyes
In her gentle, warm, endless eyes
Not merely a moth content with reaching the flame
I must dance with it, too.