MOON CHILD

So the other day while going home from work, I chanced upon a full moon πŸŒ•. Well, not exactly chanced, I am a devoted moon watcher, so I always try watch the sky every night. The night sky is magical, I’d recommend star gazing any day.
So back to what I was saying,
I was entranced by the full moon so much that I wanted to exist in the same space with it, touch it and bathe in the moonlight.
But sigh, it’s so far, too far. So ethereal, celestial, proud, distant. It will never know my thoughts.
So of course I thought of a poem, to bury the helplessness in it.




You’re a heavenly fire,
Your presence is my funeral pyre,
Proud and rampant,
That doesn’t stop me from being adamant,
But I am only a dry paper crane,
Just like a moth drawn to a flame,
You draw me into your light,
I am helpless to fight,
You bathe me and drown me,
You devour me till I cease to be,
Oh I wish I could touch you just once,
Under the night sky dance,
I wish I could hear your voice,
Anything, with words of your choice,
How I wish you were aware of my existence,
And the deep awe of your existence,
Bewitch me, even as your grace gives me a wide berth,
Chill me, freeze me to death,
Vanquish me like a foe,
Dying by your hands would be a mighty way to go.


AZUL πŸ‘‘

Published by Wanja Joseph

Writing to me is like breathing. Sometimes it's voluntary and subconscious. Other times it's frantic, like gasping for breath. And sometimes, well, I forget to do it! Not for long though.

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