HALF A MOON IS BETTER THAN NONE
By Lee Evans
Tonight as I looked skyward through the treesí
Bare branches that stretched gracefully with snow,
I saw the half-moon, thought of you and smiled,
And wondered if you sensed me there likewise.
It seemed so typical of us how it progressed,
Half dark and crystal clear at the same time;
Ambiguous, yet stating the plain fact
That you and I are dark and light at once,
Concealed within each other, waxing full
And waning empty, never to be still.
I took a deep breath of the frigid air,
Exhaled and watched the vapor disappear.
The parking lot was splendid with moonlight
That bloomed upon the surface of my car,
Like a beautiful white lotus of Mind
Unbound by the cold steel on which it grew.
The scene was like an illustration in
A book we each had not composed ourselves,
Yet both coauthored somehow, over which
We pored and dreamed and planned accordingly,
A treasured and unfinished masterpiece.
But life, I fear, is not a work of art,
For all the labor we put into itó
Or if it is, itís always incomplete,
Like the four seasons, or like birth and death.
We blend together only cyclically,
Becoming revelations to ourselves
And to each other, raising the mundane
Out of a matrix of delight and doubt
To ideals brighter than the moon; then fall
Away to follow our divergent paths,
Each left to gaze at only half a moon
That wanders through the clouds in search of what
It left behind. I felt that way at least,
When I left you for the future of my past,
As you left me for yours. The day was done.
As I stepped out to cross the icy street,
I had to keep my eyes down at my shoes,
Near where reflected traces of the moon
Reminded me to choose my steps with care.
Copyright © 2015 by Lee Evans.