The moon’s crescent is smiling at me,
as if it knew the fire beneath its lips
is the shadow of those once
cared about him and died.

The clear voice of repentance
flows along the wind,
it is the scent of years of injustice
blowing at the moon’s face
making the fire grow angrier.

If only the moon had known
the heat would have made him cry…

The moon’s tears are suffocating the flames,
still not understanding how their pain is his own,
their joy is his own, and their love is his own.

If he had known,
would the moon stop smiling at me,
and begin to give?

Yes, give what he would like to have.

Don’t stop crying for
there is still much fire to extinguish,
there is still so much to give,
there is still so much love to be…

Each one of those tears
will cleanse the turbulent past
that links in our shadowy minds.

If only the moon had known
the consequences of the wind’s blow,
never would it have lied to us…

It said,” There is nothing
enchanting in my smile;
it is all about you,
for without you,
there is no me.
If only I had known,
would I have given
what I wanted to receive?
Yes, give, because if you
weren’t there;
who would see me
for who I really am…
You.”

The moon stopped smiling at me,
it now knew how to smile at it all,
and the dead became the nourishing
grounds for a new flourishing us.