The Face of the Moon

 

Across the face of the moon

A memory, an apocalypse, flickers.

Dark eyes glitter like craters

From the dried up lake of dreams.

 

When the dry season is here,

My mind is emptied of desire.

My body filled only

With the throb of a beating heart.

 

Surely there is an end of striving,

When life is dried up and shriven

And the soul pulsing quietly

Towards the dying stars.

 

Robert Barry

Written on a clear night in January when the moonlight illuminated the shapes of faces and past memories in the trees. Where on earth are we going to and why?

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About barrywhit

I am a retired engineer and I live in darkest Lincolnshire, UK. I am an author and when I retired, published a book in 2004 and another one in April 2008. I am now also a retired author!! If you have ever written a book you will understand what I mean. I am interested in science, aviation, philosophy, spirituality , politics, progressive rock painting (art not rooms) and films. I prefer wide open spaces to city centres. Lincolnshire has the biggest skies in the country and I love it. I am a left wing, liberal Anglican, I read The Guardian and Observer. I am a Republican at heart and an armchair communist!
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One Response to The Face of the Moon

  1. anna says:

    …Such a beautiful mystery of the soul…"dried up lake of dreams…"…"And the soul pulsing quietly towards the dying stars…".one reading this can not be but part of this infinite universe…with so much beauty within it..even deth is form of live…Tank you…

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