Monday, June 1, 2015

Looking For The Moon

Shout out loud
words seeping from beneath
his broad chest.
Quiet, hesitant,
wanting of love.


Brash sound rising from above him,
cascading over him,
filling his thoughts, his mind, his heart.
The fear that often grips his soul.
He fights for control.

Loss
losing what he couldn't hold.


Pale blue pieces in his palms,
Stories shattered along the ocean floor.
The night sky rising to awake him,
and his pieces of the moon.


Morning sunlight illuminating his brown skin,
he is a child awake within,
all this world of his dreams.
trembling, he dreams,
and he caresses the seams
of the pieces of the moon.


The story waits for no one
he says, he says to himself.
he opens his hand,
he stares at his palms,
he stares at the pieces.
He looks for the moon.

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