Light On the Moon

In the depths of night the moon reaches through

with its long white arms, its white fingers exploding

into the darkest regions under the old round boulders

down by the lake,

In the brilliant,

In the brightest,


we stand sometimes to see,

to hear,

alone in ourselves,

looking every place but out,

seeing every place but in,

The moon,

O Christ the Moon!

- Michael Warren Eliseuson