an old poem
"pain of the moon"
the moon understands my pain.
there is always a faint light in the dark proving the link between lonely companions.
his craving refuses to be satisfied.
though the light becomes brighter with time, there is effort behind the smile.
the silence is beautiful, wise, but slow.
the hurdles of the undefined are relentless.
so, he holds in his pain, for tears leave their mark on the surface.
self preservation continues as he goes through the cycle, stained by the soul that has been claimed.
he is never whole without his true light.
neither am i.
C'est la vie et c'est bon
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