Once more I grew weary of the memory of the moon,
I  ventured from the shade of my many trees,
I whispered your name into the dark and closed my eyes,
Once more my feet led me into your valley.

I looked upon the night sky and saw nothing of my moon,
I searched the stars and asked the breeze whence you were,
They brought me to your resting place where I laid my head,
And covered myself with the grass of your grave.

I slept for a day, never seeing the sun,
I dreamt of your smile, your voice, the touch of your hand,
I felt so sure of your presence that it pricked my heart,
And in waking to the night air I felt the sting of tears.

“My love,” I whispered into the earth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
From the shadows came your voice in hollow tones,
“My angel, I care for you too much to let you in,
If you knew the truth you would never have stayed,
A life of light and dark is not for such as you.”

I stared into the shadows unbelieving,
How could it be my moon could die one day and rise the next?
Such things were not possible.

“A life such as mine is plagued by death,
I am cursed to live amongst the sun and the stars,
And every change of the month I die,
Only to be reborn the next day,
My grave is the only rest I get,
My death is what I wait for over and over.”

So that was the secret the moon had kept,
To save me from perpetual grief,
To have and to hold and then let go,
For my moon was dying constantly.

I reached out to touch your face,
As cold as stone, so thin and pale,
“Would you be the bride of this grave?”
I recoiled in tears and shook with fear,
“Go home my angel, I cannot bear your sadness,
This is no place for you.”

I threw myself upon the headstone and held it tight,
I did not wish to leave your side,
But your coldness was strange,
Your voice so distant,
And then your anger at my persistence,
Threw me from your sight and carried me with the wind,
To my shelter of trees again.

“Never return,” your echos reached my ears as I grieved bitterly.

Circa 2008