Why Is Wholeness Wasted on the Moon?

 Why, O God, is Wholeness wasted on the Moon,
Knowing in every cycle its inner fullness,
Though breathless, lifeless—
Its core as cold as stone?

I weep, my burning body still longing for love,
Hungry as the starving hunger,
Would steal whatever love I find
Though love has not been freely tendered.

My heart bleeds from wounds,
Growing larger over time, thorns massive as my ego,
Causes me to stumble blindly in the dark—
Falling my only grace.

If I could reach and touch full Moon,
Would wholeness flow from fuller, greater glow?
Am I now jealous of cold round stone,
Hanging lonely, bathed in reflected light?

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