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Moon Dust
She came as one might expect a mysterious dream to enter this world
Like an aberrant thought that, although eerie in mind
Was far too familiar to deny
And when came those haunting nights
Those dark hours that separated the dream realm from reality
She found herself walking along a dirt path
Trying time after time to catch a handful of moon dust
So that she might return the following day with a beacon of hope
With a precious souvenir that within its very existence
Could symbolize the magic which consumed her soul
She was a something far too beautiful
For this broken world of ours to appreciate
In herself it was clear to see
She had eyes the color of a stormy ocean
And a rare type of genius that in the eyes of the world
Was regarded as a deadly madness
And perhaps that is why
She could never seem to stand tall enough to capture the moon
The moon whom she loved all too dearly
Her soul kept her willing
Night after night, year after dreaded year
With every failure, her motivation never seemed to falter
For in her weary heart she was stubbornly certain
That one day she would live amongst the galaxy
If only she could find a way to reach it
Decades passed
And inevitably, so did her youth
Time turned her blonde hair grey
And granted her dark circles underneath those rare eyes
Her bones grew weaker
And with them, so went her spirit
She began to doubt that she would ever attain
Those childish dreams of catching moon dust
Of bringing some enchantment
Into an already shattered life
It was within this agony that she began to cry out
To the moon
To the stars
To anything and anyone
Who could hear her plea
“Why must you defy me?”
“Why must you laugh at my whimsical dreams?”
“For although you see me as an abomination, I know for certain
That this life will never be complete until God lets the heavens reign down
And shower us with hope”
And with that, the weary angel took her last breath
And left this world with a smile on her face
For she knew that her dreams of living amongst the galaxy
Were finally within her reach
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This poem was inspired by the literary quote, “In our village, folks say God crumbles up the old moon into stars.” by Alexander Solzhenitsyn. This sentence has been constantly racing through my mind these past few days and last night as I was falling asleep I couldn't help but think of the word "moon dust" over and over again. While I still don't know why this word overtook my thoughts that night, I do know that writing this poem in the middle of the night was a saving grace.