From Woman, To Moon

You have caught your falling star. And it seems so close, so close even in the distance. I, in your spark flecked shadow, follow closely. I am tired, so tired. But to lose you means death. So I follow, so near you, and yet so far away.

Soon, we met. It feels like it happened yesterday, today, now. I know you in your kindness, your decency, your love. How can I settle for less? Yet you leave me to find the moon, a cold mistress of the night. Leave me, my love in this hell, once heaven. And to go, where I may never reach you.

No, I will follow, glittering in the trail of dust. I shall throw myself on your star, even if it is meant for only you. Hell, once heaven, hold-me-not. Let me fly, as he does, in ecstasy. We were one. But now halved, I am no more.

Midsummer air does not breath, for here I am, but where is he? He soars, circling, in ritual to mate the moon. And I alone, weep, seeing him as I shall nevermore. Once a giant, he is now a moth, fearing not that cold flame.

"Love-me-not?" I cry. "Leave-me-not," cry I. And he wavers, watching me in the distance, and turns away. And so I sunk, sinking, into the cruel earth, weeping "If I had, but gone to him ..."

But through my tears, he shimmers, courting his match. And is conquered by the moon, who holds him, laughing at his naivete. And so he fades, lighter in the brightness of surrender.

I see him sometimes, as the moon continues to war the sun. He guards her skirts, lightly, so as not to tear them. But it is me he looks to, and I, for once, see him.

So says,
Bhavika Desai