Moon Man
There he is, my other self, stumbling along
tone deft but insisting on playing life's
symphony by ear
He is like a country fully inhabited but
waiting to be discovered or like a
planet which, ever so gently, wobbles a star
to reveal it's presence
He has his history, his Alexandra, his Caligula moments.
He has crossed the alps, the oceans,
going from what he was to what he is
and like everyone else, has been nailed
called back from the dead
been a Buddha when it didn't
matter.
That's him, eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches,
shyly leaning too far over the ramparts while the enemy
waits below
He has the great comfort of loving
and being loved, and still he is
hungry for something else...
We are so different, the two of us, two sides of the moon.
It seems almost funny we cast the same tongue-tied
shadow, the same stuttering footprint.
But there you have it, there's no stopping him
and maybe it's for the best. He plays everything by ear
and doesn't know one note from another.
Still, I find myself tapping a finger to his beat.
He is, after all, my brighter side,
the one facing the earth, the side that people see.
Shadow A looming shadow pours over
a simple flower
bathing in the glow of the sunAs the shadow draws closer
all light is stripped of
the flowerLoathing darkness
the flower strains its
delicate petalsdesperately reaching towards
the sun’s warmthThe shadow reaches for the flower
Slowly plucking away every last petal
until the flower is left bare and emptyFinally the shadow flies away
having fulfilled it purposeand leaving the flower in
crippled dismay.