conversation with the moon
|
conversation with the moon
conversation with the moon
the moon was staring at me all night
finally he spoke to me full and clear
" i was once a fiery blaze hurling
through space on a grand adventure.
now i am grey ash and i hang in your
sky - just watching "
i listened to the wise old moon
" one day you will be grey ash -
but not yet - all will be grey ash-
i'm waiting "
people have been confusing me lately
but i perfectly understood the moon when he spoke
|
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source