Silent Lover
Lay mouthless kisses
On your beloved
No hunger left
Except desire
Child of Saturn
Honouring sky
With glowing rings
Bowing feathered antennae
In mortal deference
To old gods
Dream walker
Tend to my visions
Guide me back
To knowing
Silent flutter, a dance
Moonbeam pirouettes
Become landmark navigations
Living shadows
Draped in dust
Wait to be released
Quick
Snuff all false lanterns
Lest we’re led astray
Artificial intelligence beckons
With disorienting lure
How many will
Meet their demise
As illusion mocks
Wisdom’s good glow
Bible names you villain
Yet scoundrel you are not
Irony in knowing
You are an indicator species
Giving clear counsel
As nature’s advocate
What a noisome billboard
Is a porch light
To a moth
You, whose eyes pierce
Night’s hazards
Feast to your optical flow
Victorious adaptation
Over paltry human sight
Lovely Actias Luna
Come for tea
Rest while you ferry
Ancestors for fun
Leave some eggs
In my keeping
Bless me as guardian
For your children
Honoured patron saint of
Little green caterpillars
Inching through dusky gardens
Munching new leaves
When they transform
Unfurling on my hand
Shimmying free
From final confinement
Reflective eyes will turn
To gaze upward
Compass sure
Aloft, they will know
True lantern of night
Which guides us all
Floating, whirling stars
Wandering; searching
Unencumbered
Without mouths to feed
Seeking their own
Love and light
About the Creator
Aspen Marie
In love with life and all of its foibles.
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Comments (6)
I love how you've given us a photo of the subject. I felt as though I was looking up, while uttering these words. I love how you corrected the reputation of this form of light in the sky. The moon. Love this, 'a porch light to a moth' makes me feel like a moth has a home, and the moon guides it there. Love how you gave it the name, true lantern of night. Seeking their own love and light. Amazing work here Aspen. Your writing always takes my breath away 🤗❤️🖤👏🏾👌🏾
It’s lush, sensory and full of movement—I can almost feel its wings brushing through each line. 💖
Luna blushes at your wonderous descriptions and interplay of words. Beautifully written.
Very pretty. I love your use of carefully selected descriptors.
Well-wrought! The moth's wings burn up in the terrestrial fire or the artificial light, but if it flies toward the light in the sky, it simply tires and lands and lives to fly another day. A parable...
Oh wow, noisome is a new word for me. Loved your poem!