Up comes the sun, the moon survives
the light, yet we are not the same,
nor does the light of day disguise
the dying written in our eyes.
We see the thing we dare not name.
Up comes the sun, the moon survives,
although the brilliance deprives
the moon of power without its frame,
nor does the light of day disguise
the pallor of our present lives,
so sedentary and so tame.
Up comes the sun, the moon survives
unconfident, yet still contrives
to glimmer shyly by the flame,
nor does the light of day disguise
our resignation nor our sighs.
We loved and have no one to blame.
Up comes the sun, the moon survives
the light of day with no disguise.
|