“Who am I?” so says the moon
as he looks upon the tilted earth
restless and un-new.
The sun shining brightly on,
between the darkness colored hues.
Am I a reminder of the days
hastily whispering by?
Or the seasons as they stay around for a set amount of time?
Am I the bringer or the tide? Or is that just what I do –
still I ask the question, “who am I?”
so says the moon.
What if thats just they, telling me who to be?
What does a moon say about what we moons do or see?
What pleasures are of my heart versus whats bestowed upon me?
What hopes and dreams does a moon long to scheme?
Again I ask, “Am I who I am or just who I am supposed to be?”
Not that I’m dissatisfied being a reflection of the sun,
shining bright in darkness to the hearts of everyone.
Not that I wish to find some where else to roam
or that a purpose such as purposed solely cannot be my own….
that maybe in passing,
a caring sweet unyielding thought,
they might look up
and dare ask too,
“So moon, who are you?”