Howling at the Moon

/ February 14, 2017

There you are,

Up in the ether,

Your flawed alabaster face,

Peeking through the pillowy clouds.

The pall like night,

Is darker than ever,

Yet your light draws me close,

Like that love-struck fly,

To the compelling candlelight.

You’re brighter than the stars,

Your silver luminescence unreal,

The cool wind sighs your name in my ears,

It sounds sweeter than a lullaby.

But there’s something else that tugs,

At these aching heartstrings,

It’s not slumber, no,

But a thirst of another kind.

I bide here looking up at you,

I want not ambrosia, not nectar, not mead,

I wait here for the first sight of the lonely you,

Till the bacchanalia by my side recedes.

I seek solitude sublime,

Just like you do,

Why, when we two are alike,

Must we suffer this separation?

Ah! But this tawdry world,

Was never meant for the likes of you,

Your’e purer than elixir,

Gentler than doves,

The personification of God’s own perfection.

I reach for you and all I catch is air,

You’re far away but not distance-wise,

My yearning for you,  may never be received,

Or acknowledged or rejected, or otherwise.

Lo! The short night already comes to a close,

Buy my eyes haven’t yet drunk enough of you,

‘Another fortnight after’, you promise us gentiles,

But I’m still here, howling at the moon.

 

 

©Pradita Kapahi, 2017.

 

Image Credits – http://www.gaiaonline.com

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41 thoughts on “Howling at the Moon”

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