Luna Bella

January 26, 2011
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Your light dances before mine eyes.
A cream colored pearl amongst diamond stars.
You turn your face from my mournful cries.
Indifferent to the sighing bodies, marred.
I am the servant to your footstool:
A small grain amidst a wheat field.
You see me, lest your eyes are cruel,
Yet to the ground you have me kneeled.
I crave your light.
Setting fire to my soul.
Send me on a flight.
Ambivalent to the cold.
For you my heart no longer sighs, but moans.
I wish inside me I held a light of my own.

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