A poem a day into the millennium
24 October 1999
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
places,
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 Elisueson

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