Questions to the Moon

I watch the moon expanding and growing

and I see it englufing my cracked window pane;

Suddenly, fear strikes my heart at the terrible unknowing.

The bone dry moon rivets and scares me, am I even sane?

How could a dusty orb bring me such agony, is this my sensitivity bestowing

Or is it but a curse that it is part of being inhumane?

Questions, I ask so many of them one after the other, throwing

Them at the moon, I am angry, I am sad, why? Why do you make me feel chained?

Moon, oh moon, quiet orb in the sky, your power is glowing,

Right into the dusty parts of my soul, that make me see my pain,

Moon, oh moon, I wish you were not all knowing.