by Chad Geesman

Created on: August 31, 2008

I dream of the day I hold the moon in the palm of my hand.
The moon, who's light gives my heart the power to glow again.
Though as I lay, dreaming of the Moons' soft light, it's pale beauty, it's warm embrace,
I feel the touch of the Moon slipping farther and farther from my grasp,
Until no longer my eyes see it,nor my heart feel the warm touch.

As does the light of the moon fade, so does the glow of my heart.
The glow, which fades untill there is nothing left to spark its fire,
Leaving only cold dust as dark and dry as the desert.

Moon, light of my heart, warmth of my soul, I beg of thee:
Find you way to me and brush away the rust and dust that collects in my soul.

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