Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning
when my mind becomes restless
and I cannot sleep,
I stroll towards my coffee pot
in my kitchen
and I catch a glimpse of the silent,
perplexing moon outside my window.
Beaming like a light house in a sea of stars.
And if I listen close enough,
I can hear the moon tell me all his secrets…
Secrets of the past and of the future,
he sings to me a song of hopeful sorrow.
A plea to humanity,
and a reminder that
all we do in this world will someday be forgotten.
And that everyday brings a new a great purpose,
if we could only see.
If we could only see what legacy we leave behind,
every waking morning would bread a whole new reason to breathe,
and an entirely selfless motivation.
But as it does every morning,
the moon fades away into the sky,
letting the sun take its place as guardian of the Earth.
And I bid the moon farewell from my window,
only to look for him again the next morning,
and to hear his peaceful,
song of sorrow.
*Photo taken by me this past weekend of Indiana smokestacks