Dystopian Moon

A foreigner to eon scale, you pulsed your will divine.
You pushed and pulled our membranes as we developed spine.

You witnessed all our history, espied with aged eye.
When humans talked few syllables of grunt and moan and sigh. 

What arcane language bid you sounds, phenomena and terms?
Eroded rock with dust for print that no one ever learns.

Waft old semantics though my mind as liquids slosh my brain.
Amore, lament, and wistful lilt, and fairies none could tame.

You drew our humours to the fore and buried rationale.
We could not see through science that the ancients knew so well.

You smoothed the lines of possible and quickened our resolve.
Subdued the pang of problems' itch, made none to big to solve.

Elastic tensions pulled our hearts, whatever wont our thoughts.
Stretched the hope between the dos, permission, the do-nots.

Your perigee brought wonton, apogee, reprieve.
Your cyclic waves sang to our souls, astrologers believed.

Your waxing march foretold of joy, your wane repressed our thought.
Your eclipse rained defiance; you were there and you were not.

Now we are gone and you remain; Earth's progeny am I.
I visit now to mine for soil, my home... deep in the sky.

© Sean G. O'Leary, October, 2023

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