2007-07-14
Posted at 04:39 UT
by
Tamara
We cry to the moon,
and the moon weeps not.
Tears have forgotten
how to till.
Never was.
Never will.
How to hold these always feels?
Do we send our envoys
into the night
and hold on tight
to what we steal?
The heart will heal,
and never heal.
It carries all pain,
all life,
all blame,
all hope,
all hills.
And rivers until
we run it right.
Hold to the light,
night fields.