Poetry

Moon

How maddening the moon

Feeble, small, lifeless.

In ignorance we look up and see a beacon in the night, a lighthouse in a sea of dark. In ignorance the moon becomes a place to long for, to strive toward. In ignorance, on the moon, in the moon, we find hope.

In truth, it is a thief. Pilferer of light. Devoid of life, it is an empty hope dangled in the dark, falsely divine.

The great lie in the sky.