Monday, March 2, 2009


Pale disc of the moon
Pursues the bright sun
Flies before the flame
In one desperate run.

But moon doesn’t know
Her track was aligned
Forged in God’s purpose
Before there was time.

So seeking glory
Spurns her silver light
Leaves her perfect home
Illumines not the night.

Wanders into day
Meaning only ill
Tries to overthrow
Sun’s resplendent will.

Throws herself before
The brightest light she knows
She only hopes to see
Her own glory grow.

Out her light is snuffed
(It never was her own)
Silver shine revoked
Perfect plan undone.

Blinding fire blazes,
Frames her blackened form
She but darkly shows
The brightness of the sun.

1 comment:

Tammy said...

Very cool poem - wow. Thanks for sharing it with everyone!