Crescents of the Moon
The crescents of the moon seem like my eyes:
once bright eternal love which I oft’ sought
then changing shapes and hues that read goodbyes
in fading glimmer, struck by blackened thought.
As pieces started missing of my whole
this doubt was sitting for its final feast.
A quaking fear that bellowed through my soul,
no peckish worm, more like a starving beast.
First weary of this convoluted track,
a faithful gesture, guidance how to cope
is all I needed for my last comeback
and strengthen me now resolute in hope:
“No darkness ever shall defeat the light
now that I’ve again come to my sight!”
