Sat the moon upon the sea,
sad moon upon the sea,
trailing silver on the wave,
sad moon upon the sea.
Shadows, passing on the wind,
we roamed the shrouded shore
and peered through ribboned mist
at blanching moon,
sad moon upon the sea.
And pink-tender shells clasped
warm your palm
to filter on my lap,
as if by barter you could
buy my soul.
And I, deceptive as the moon,
accepted laud that never
was for me.
Deceiver moon, sad moon,
to sit upon the sea.
We lured your shells to buy
that which was given
free.
Sat the moon upon the sea,
sad moon upon the sea,
where I pass fragile on the wave,
a shadow
from the sea.
Sat the moon upon the sea,
surreal in her insanity,
fracturing light
across your sight of
phantasms on the beach.
You raced the wind;
it blew you back,
and I within your reach.
You caught handsful of foaming brine
to wash sandgrit from humane skin
that touched mine with compassion.
Compassion neither known nor owned
by the moon or sea,
sad moon upon the sea.
Your eyes, bedazzled by dark light,
saw all the spectre lies as real
and trusted haunted shores.
Liar moon, sad moon,
that gave you dreams to hold
of visions in the sand, unreal,
dissolving at your touch.
Always elusive, ever cold,
the moon, the waves,
the sea.
Sat the moon upon the sea,
sad moon upon the sea,
where I pass fragile on the wave,
a shadow
from the sea.
Crazed images were brought
to falter on your brain,
to leave you lying, dying
on the sand,
life less than all its grains.
To find yourself: Alone.
Illusion gone.
Catch the moon!
She wanes.
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