Ode to the Moon

With what spectered radiance

Doth She navigate the clouded sea,

A painted argosy, from copper,

      Silver white,

Amidst a veil of gossamer glee.

Transfixed as under the reach

      Of a potion,

No eye is there can turn from

Her arc of galleon-like waning

      A Crescent’s fine cusp,

      And Heaven-bound frigate’s

      Heavenly devotion.

Where sailing seeks She

The nights destination,

That graciously dons for all

The earth’s sight,

And, when She doth dip down

Below vision’s level,

‘Tis only to rise again for

Our same vision’s revel.

 How doth born aloft, thy wings

                                          Alight nocturnal splendor

                  And invite the gaze of weary sojourn

                  To delight in all thy allusive display,

                  Only to drop by drop with melancholic pay.

      O, Mirrored Soul, our day’s mute reminder

      That in worldly birth we doth yearn,

      And vex us to know which sphere

                              Be the kinder,

      The orb of the day, or the nightly orb burn?

      As the candle guides us

                              Through lightless days,

      So your torch light, though pale,

                              Gives Hope.

      In nightly seas

                              Of distant quays

      You offer each the

                              Promise of rope

      That anchors us our eternal thread

      And life’s the heart amidst ill cause

                              Toward venturing beyond a death

                                          Of celestial bread,

      And mocking sense and worldly laws.

      So, sail sweet Luna, our curious desire,

      That gives pause to each amidst

                              Nights travail,

                  And tempers dreams abounding in Faith,

      That Life’s Infinitude each

                              Might assail.