Moon Over Lake Almanor (image credit)
Since the day
your beauty startled me
the sun alights more softly on the world;
the air floats sweeter on my lips.
But in the naked night,
without the tender masks of day,
the world seems emptied of such joys.
Alone amidst the mediocre oxygen,
I gaze upon the turbid skies
with fervent lonesomeness
and wonder –
Do moons, as such,
Construct oppressive scenes
Upon the soul?
or is it,
stripped of worldly follies,
bathed in chaste Veritaserum,
I feel the chilling
truth?
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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.
- Emily Dickinson