The Melodic Moon

Markthetabor

Before I die, 

I wish to put my mind at rest. 

An improvisation of my being. 

And a visualisation-

Of a man who tries. 

 

Soon this will come to light-

Let us hope.

A tear may run down my cheek

As the moon//

Fired from it’s grave,

Walks me into the light.

 

This time,

I’ve found my soul.

Boiling in a pot of stew.

Heated not by fire-

But my fear of the dark,

And all that lurks in the shadows-

Of my mind. 

 

Strangely enough,

//I started to swoon. 

Looking closer, 

And past the shadows.

I saw my love for the creatures-

Of the sea.

Not hindered any longer,

For the harpoons-

That had previously called their name.

 

Understanding this,

The moon had let me die.

It set me on it’s knee,

And told me about the story-

About the honeybee,

That had been let free.

 

  • Author: Markthetabor (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 10th, 2020 01:51
  • Category: Short story
  • Views: 18
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