A prayer plays on my lips every time I look up at the Moon: <br />That at that moment, I share with my dear Miranda <br />The grand and beautiful sight. <br />I often stare entire evenings, <br />Hoping that she at the same time will catch Its glow in the sky, <br />And in that glow a glimpse of my eyes. <br /> <br />I’ve never, ever known of anything as lonely as the poor Moon. <br />It has nothing to call Its own but dust and craters, <br />Surrounded on every infinite side of It <br />By years past, and years to come, <br />And a space as black <br />As the tears of an old man who has lost his memory. <br />And every time he spots the Moon gazing down upon him, <br />Those black tears of his streak his craggled cheeks. <br />He remembers (blesséd memory!) <br />That he has forgotten something. <br />And his attempts to regain those once-held and dearly-loved <br />(Now forgotten and dearly-missed) <br />Moments of his life are as pitiable as <br />The all-alone Moon <br />With the eyes of two soul mates staring at each other <br />By reflection in Its dusty, cratery surface. <br /> <br />The old man, in his chair at the window— <br />Passed away, both hands over his heart, <br />Though a heart attack is not to blame. <br />But just before his soul pulled away from him, <br />And likely because of its readiness, <br />He remembered of a Love. <br /> <br />The Moon mourns the death; <br />The eyes of the old man <br />And the eyes of Another <br />Were the only two pairs which ever used It <br />To speak to, and see, each other; <br />Which ever allowed It to see two lovers’ Love, <br />And to feel love Itself. <br />And too innocent for spite, <br />Too loving for spite, <br />The Moon zealously glows, <br />Faithful ‘til our end. <br />Though It still remains the loneliest thing I’ve ever known.<br /><br />Chris Graham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-alone-moon/
