Moon at Half Past Noon

Upon your face, a morning light once shone,
As if the sun had turned itself to glow.
Back then, my very breath felt blessed and warm,
Made sweet just by the closeness of your soul.

I only asked one thing, a simple question:
“These prayers I hold here, cupped within my hands,
Where should I send them? Who will hear them now?”
It was a small thing… like a drop of ink…
That spread and stained the pure white of your trust.

And then that light, which warmed our home so bright,
Broke apart and faded into night.
The tears within my eyes
Dried to dust inside,
The great sun had fallen, dead upon the ground.

A line appeared, drawn tightly on your brow…
A trembling truce deserting a no man’s land.
You wanted simple trust, no questions asked.
And I was looking for the honest answer.

Because of this one small and simple thing,
The way into your heart became a giant crack.
And all our trust now lies in bits around our feet,
Like dangerous shards of a broken window.

We cannot fix the bits, we cannot move,
We stand completely still, trapped in our spots…
And the whole world has grown terribly cold.