Moon Series #4 - Day 2

8:07 p.m. Waxing Gibbous

A button moon fills the night's center,
an apprehensive moon, painting the sky black.
My frantic mind tells me I can't see it.
I'm blind even though the sky's as clear
as it will ever be.
the cold air cut the clouds away like spinder silk,
the moon is fully visible,
to everyone but me
The heavy weight of my sorrow
is its own cloud
covering up what's right in front of me,
tensing my shoulders,
glazing my eyes to the truth.
That the moon doesn't feel my small life
should be my cue to let all these burdens
drift up and up until I become as weightless
as the tales I tell myself.