Here I am again.
Looking at the moon.
Somewhere in my heart
There beats a familiar tune.
She sings to the sky –
She shines through the night.
I have loved her before –
I have been loved by light.
The sun struggles to rise;
This love triangle I know;
The moon lies and lies and lies;
But the sun burns me so.
So I crave for the dark
And, when the sky is night,
I yearn for her crescent
That waxes so bright.
But I’ve heard her song,
It may cut like a knife,
The illusion of love
Is much cause for strife.
The moon shall wane,
She will break me with pain;
The sun will laugh and laugh
When he rises, unfailingly, again.
I used to wish upon a star;
But wishes are games;
When you wish upon stars,
Who remembers their names?
They are but suns,
That will someday die,
Or will just erupt
And shoot out of the sky.
I rely on the moon.
She dispels all noise.
She wanes and she waxes;
But never destroys.
I look to her for counsel,
She never gives it clear;
Since I turn to her often,
She holds me very dear.
So I sit quiet and stare,
I do not complain,
She knows me by now,
She soothes most of my pain.
She is my muse,
I depend on her face,
She trumps the sun,
For she taught me grace.
Hearts Still Care 