The Moon

There’s a Moon above my head and it shines so bright.

I stare in amazement and curiosity and delight.

I have questions to ask; and I think I might.

But when I try to ask, he bids me goodnight.

There’s a Moon above my head and it shines so bright.

I say, “Mr. Moon, being snooty is not right!”

He smiles down at me, for he is polite.

He says, “Dear girl, don’t judge me, alright!

I have to fight the darkness to shine so bright.”

“Oh Moon above my head! Can you sing me a song?”

“Because, night is here and far away is the dawn.”

So, Moon sings to me, the song of the Sun.

The one who lives with desires, but none.

There’s a Moon above my head and all his brightness fades.

I ask him, “Why?” He says, “Dark shadows invade.”

“Slowly each day, by piece I am torn.

Only the Sun puts me together and I am reborn.”

“Oh Moon above my head! Does the Sun possess all might?”

“Dear little one”, he says, “He is the most generous and bright.”

“He is a humble giver who burns on the outside.

I am only a borrower. I borrow his light.”

“My greed for more silver, tears me away every night.

Be kind like the golden Sun and your glow shall be infinite.”

There’s a Moon above my head and it shines so bright.

I hear what he says, and I think he is right.