A blistered moon falls above a blasted land
Where thin winds flip grains of sand;
Where once a shallow sea sang sweetly to the moon,
And sheltered bizarre creatures in the shallows and deeps.
But for 100 million years past the rocks have forgot
What humidity feels like, and know only dust
And thin breezes,
And the silence of forever.
But still the moon rolls past, night after night,
Playing its pale beams over the sands, looking, looking,
Sending seductive waves of gravity,
Searching abandoned places,
Reaching out to nothingness,
Not knowing futility, only
The buoyancy of light.