My Moon

Who are you? Who are you to me? Look at you, floating in silence beside my being as if we are of one unit.

When we spin as we do in cosmic dance, my people have seen and still see you. They have worshiped and still worship you.

Remember when you turned red, we laughed as they scurried and killed each other in blood-letting orgies and justified obscenities on our innocent brother Sun's infracted beams of light.

In a sense, I was to blame as well. My atmosphere had blocked and bended selectively. Perhaps, it was in me to secretly want to belittle and intimidate my people as they kill me daily in so many ways. Maybe it was out of a vengeful spirit. But yet as we laughed at how they scurried, I then later cried in solitude as I felt their blood soak my soul and you.... You just turned your beautiful featureless self away to let me cry in bitter loneliness. Abandonment in space echoes so much greater since solitude is the norm in such expanse.

When we first danced, we wrapped each other in embrace tightly as we spun in revolution. Your weight of being used to trash my waters and my waves made impressions on the surfaces of my earth. Your weight formed me on the surface.

Now calmer waves prevail. As time has passed, you have slipped further. My dance pattern is to blame as I foxtrot to a faster inner rhythm and the waves of my oceans spin you with feckless torque outwards and outwards.

Who am I? Who am I to you? If my being of being is what denies our eternal Dance.