wednesday.

this light is ancient

Lunacy

Earth's pale child:
Faded in her weathered blue shell;
Radiant in her dark cloak.
Would her sand be so different beneath my feet,
her shores any less than our home?
Her sheen any less wondrous for being not her own?

Would my body be rendered any less by her cold
Than my spirit is suffocated on this plane?
Would I be any more alone on her vacant moors?

Could I scream from her airless hills and be any less heard?

I fold this page to make a ladder
And I curl in her luminous soil.
I call the stones from the void to strike this place,
No longer defended in that weathered blue shell.

I will be buried in this crater
With the dreams and hopes of distant generations.
My paper ladder a warning and a guide into this luminous embrace,
Dressed in darkness.

(16/8/16)