What is it about the moon that lends itself to rhyme and verse, and so much more? The moon that weaves its way into countless poems, books, and songs while it soars across the nighttime sky on its quest to light the world.

But what about this moon we see most every night? A waning or waxing crescent moon or the moon trying its best to become full, to be seen around the world but through different lenses, shadowed by circumstances and events that can distort an otherwise pristine celestial body.

Hello this is 911 whats
Your emergency?. Hello
I need help I live at address
redacted ! I saw a man cutting

up a dead body he saw me
and started sprinting after me.
OK mam what did he look like
Spanish, black, Caucasian?

I don't know five nine erm
wrapped white mask no
expression like a manican
I couldn't get a description
I just ran.

Please help me he saw
me go inside, mine
hold on

Now rest ye, earthly gentle beings
The Universe is wise
She looks upon us with a Love
That neither feigns nor dies
Though in our arrogance we fall
In bitter compromise
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
She will comfort us with tidings of joy

Before the skies began to fall, I was told of nature’s

latest cruelty: your disappearance. I am glad you

aren't animate for this plague borne of inattention.

But this is no time for trouble, no time to double on trouble.

A madcap from some submarinal lake in Lewis Carroll,

a Blakean sincerity searing through all you wrote, all you did.

Would this wordsmith firebrand choose to be himself once more?

coose his own storm, the fitful alterations of his rain,

each drop a small planet weighed on and burnt

In shadows deep, where trust once lay,
Did you whisper sweet lies, or simply stray?
With smiles so bright, yet daggers drawn,
Was our bond a spark, or a cruel con?

In laughter shared, did you feign delight?
Were you my ally, or lurking in night?
The warmth of your words, a comforting guise,
Could love be a mask, hiding treacherous lies?

"Clean as you go" is the first thing I see,
Upon entering the dreamlike state of the kitchen.
In colorful letters, pulled from the kids' toys,
Pasted on the mirror fridge I secretly overuse,
Stealing glances at myself when no one’s watching.

I laugh at my thoughtful reflection,
Memories flooding my choices of what to eat.

I recall the sunniest day of the year,
When the all-white kitchen glimmered like a disco ball—
A purchase you eagerly made at the thrift store,
Along with your red carpet-like tiles.

Ribbons and buttons,
A haberdashery smile,
Perfectly crafted, by a long mile.
Practical decorations, well packaged placements.
Hidden within the depth of our basement.

All manner of scraps,
And material pieces.
All folded neatly, without any creases.
A plethora of memories, wrapped up into one,
From a bygone era that's long gone.

And at the same time,
Just as these flashbacks appear.
I hear a noise that fills me with fear.
A scratch then a squeak, I cannot find,
What cretins lurk to blow my mind?

“Pay the toll” the old bald troll told me,
“Or else suffer the consequences if you don’t”,
So lo and behold I had gold to pay his fee,
But then I asked “what happens if I won’t?”

So the old troll strolled back and forth hotly,
His nostrils flared like he was about to strike,
“You’re a bold soul for talking to me like this…
Roll on out of here or I’ll put you on a spike”.

The news left me gasping for air,
Drowning in a hopeless despair,
In your absence, I am lost in sorrow,
Knowing you won’t see tomorrow,

Words seem impossible to find,
I only feel pain left behind,
When silence echoes, and the curtain falls,
When shadows dance, and night time calls,

In darkness, I gaze at the sky,
And I wonder where you might lie,
I hope you are there, with the stars and moon,
Will they know you were gone too soon,

No moon tonight -
I sleep alone
Dreams haunted by stars