J's Musings

In the dark of this cold night,

I sit alone,

A poet of melancholy,

I stare out the glass,

That separates me from the sky,

And it’s wild wind,

Should it drive my mad mind,

Insane,

I stare and stare,

Till I see it,

A piece of dented rock,

Revolving around my own,

They say it’s the moon,

A piece of astronomical wonder,

The poets romanticize it,

Say the shine is pure gold,

Though forgive me,

For I stand with the scientists,

Who explain the light,

To be,

A mere reflection,

A beautification,

Of the sun’s raw heat.

Then why do we,

Write of the moon,

More than the sun?

Maybe,

Its because the moon provides peace;

It’s glow soft and warm,

And we humans have always failed,

At appreciating the big and bold.

So, I understand,

That dawn brings anxiety,

To your fragile mind,

Then why not attend,

To the stars,

That glow just the same,

With the help of their burning desire;

The ones that take the backseat,

So, their incompetent friend,

Can try.

I apologize,

For not acting like my fellows,

Soft and moonstruck,

But the reflecting shine,

Of the rusty design,

Does not suit me.

I will praise with my ink,

The fiery gleam,

Of the constellation creators,

Or the unapologetic Sun.

Yes,

I confess,

I am a mess,

In love with the sky,

Claiming to be different,

Yet just like the rest;

I simply work,

Write till I tire,

Only to simplify,

The rawest and roughest of human desire,

So, behold another one of us,

A poet,

I claim,

More like a plotting sorceress,

Destined to burn off,

In her flaming passion.

By,

Janx

Picture Credits: Flo