Friday, January 13, 2012

Illusion

You are the moon and I am the Earth.
I caress your cratered brow
with reverence normally reserved for the sun.
Your radiance is borrowed
but I don’t mind,
and you’ve got a synchronous rotation,
forever showing your sunny disposition,
never really exposing everything.
Half of you is hidden from view
but I’ve seen glimpses of your dark side
and I’m not going anywhere.
I’m not going to be the cause of another crater
on your damaged façade, believe me.
I’ve seen you through every phase,
each full and new and beautiful.
You came ricocheting into my life,
molten and tumultuous as it was,
you put me right and, at my core,
I just don’t have the heart to let you go.
I blame it on my gravity
but, who am I kidding?
That’s just an illusion of the warped space-time,
you would agree if you knew what I meant.
I know all I appear to be,
nothing special really,
there has to be billions of me in billions of galaxies.
But I’m more than just rock,
look closely, you’ll find my exterior is flaking
and sometimes my humanity feels like it’s ruining me.
But, really, I enjoy the company because I’ve spent too many years alone
so, I’m sorry, I have to keep you close.
Don’t worry, there should be just enough distance
to appear like I wouldn’t care if you left,
like it wouldn’t throw me off my axis,
but the sea betrays me.
The tides extend themselves towards you,
hoping to get ever closer,
and they get sad and small when you’re distant.
These tendrils of my life are reaching for you
in a way that’s hard to deny.
Sometimes I don’t want to.
It’s so very cold out here and
I’ve reached the point in my years where I don’t like the loneliness
or the pressure, there are billions of me, but it seems
I’m the only one around.