If I were a moon, any one of them,
I’d be distressed
At all this talk about waxing and waning.
First off because I don’t know what they mean.
I’m alway the same
Never smaller or larger.
Except after the holidays when I should try to
Lose a few tons,
Clean out my craters.
But those humans, their perspective
From where they stand
earthbound and all
This Dark Age idea speaks of their superstition
Not my bulk.
I can live with unfounded folly
And the humor of all that.
But one thing I do know for sure,
I am a reason for being, destined.
When sad angels die
They need a place to go,
A reward for bearing and harboring,
Protecting human kind from woe.
Their choices are endless
Seasides, mountaintops, sandy expanses,
Yet in wild chorus, and unending
They come to one of me.
I greet they joyfully, we sing together
For without me, they’d have no home.
I’d wane away.