Sublunary Sojourner

“Fly me to the moon,” croons the singer,

but who says I’ll have him? Or anyone?

You’ll find no refuge here, amongst my barren craters.

Desolation.

You will not like me up close,

eternally shadow-bound, bathed in cold that devours,

scintillating stars ever whirling just out of reach.

Mocking.

And you would “play among them?”

They would scorn you for trying and burn you for succeeding.

Ruthless.

Fly not to the moon, lest you shatter my mirage,

alight upon my imperfections, look into my eyes

and learn that for you, I am Medusa, and stone you shall be.

Beauty can be cruel, indeed.

I beseech you, stay.

Stay, earthbound, where my moonbeams can reach you,

cascading and twining with starlight

in knowing silence, all just to kiss your cheek.

Stay,

where I can keep watch over your slumbers,

or your wakefulness, from my heavenly perch,

a stalwart guardian to the sleeping world.

Stay,

and send to me the offerings I inspire; music, writing, art.

Confess to me your loves, your fears, your hopes, and your sins.

Listen and obey as I sing to you romance, depravity, freedom, loneliness, solidarity and chaos,

from achingly far away.

Stay,

and yearn for me, as I shall yearn for you.

Do not climb Heaven’s ladder to caress my face and find it wanting.

Some things are best loved from afar.