Pink Moon

I am bathed in

Honey maple fire;

A sunset shines upon me.

Too soon, I cool into a darkling night.

In shadow, I see all the pitted places

All the worst cases

in a spiral, in a circle, in a cycle

Pink, pale, pallid and petulant,

I may ossify.

Have the stars died?

Can a light ever come from inside?

And yet,

A horizon.

A morning, a dawn

A fleeting beam to grace me.

I flicker, fade and spark.

At least, the sun, she loves me.

How I long to flourish through the dark

Through the dark?

That is her task!

Singly and forever set in midnight skies,

She daily strives and self ignites.

With tender work I might be able;

Might be sunny; might be stable.

With slow curiosity

And bellowed breath

I, faintly glowing, creep

Towards a high place

Where I might stand

And let light rise from the deep