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.