To The Moon

My dear friend,

(Is it alright if I call you such? 

It's what you've become to my weariness.)

Somehow, we hve become companions. 

I confess, I used to hardly see your reign. 

I know now the night queen's beauty. 

You are the silent witness to my torment

These long months 

And you are my beacon in the stillness of my open eyes.

You understand raw fear. 

You've seen it enough, perhaps from me alone.

Sometimes, I imagine you as a powder, 

One day sprinkled on my head for clarity.

You help me find it, even when I know the toll the next morning.

Friend, being near you isn't cheap. 

And you pay my exhaustion good money, not me. 

People say you may be a traitor but I see it this way:

The moon is a balm. 

My unblinking eyes capture it, 

Unable to hold hostage the vision that 

Keeps the world away.