The Lens of an Arabic Moon

A gleam — a gleam — from Khaleej's height

by the fire — got sent, it came

from watch to watch, it changed color

like the moon was never the moon

but a swelled rainbow star

Declare to what we see, let alone whispers

it’s in the eyes to know the worth

enabling us to see beauty where it’s not

but sub-eternal light, ever simple charm

I don’t like the moon — they remind me often

of the lonely world, funeral, and eclipse

keeping the presence high and no cure for when I cry

it's the same moon of my low and dark days

it knows it all

If only we knew what the lens of the moon hides

it’s not just a circle, but cattle of the legions

to verse, whoever says to buy a part of the moon

shall know it’s impossible to control

Disclaimer:

This article is originally published elsewhere.