Songs To The Moon

When there is merit in songs to the moon,
Its poetry has secret syllables

Singing in enchanted intervals.

Such poetry cannot come too soon.

A spray of stars upon the slate of night,

It must wait until the moment is right.

Until I can find my mind an anchor
To the brash chemistry of verse and rhyme,

To the fierce formulas of art and time.

Until I can free my heart from rancor
I cannot make this power manifest
And nor can I hope to ever attest

To its motive for being and merit.

I must marry my blood to the spirit

That still sings, if I can only hear it.

I have this love, but I cannot bear it.

I wait in the wake of the moon for strength
And the courage to travel any length.