adventures in dysthymia

Friday, May 15, 2015

Run, a poem

Run

Howl with me tonight, before the moon
wanes again to nothing. Howl into
the heavens so God remembers why he made us,
so we remember why he made us. I’ll run

as far as tomorrow with you. Let the next day
find itself, even as the moon diminishes
into a hole among those stars that man,
in all his hubris, once chose to name.

Stephen Brooke ©2015

This started as part of a longer piece, but as oft before, I decided that less is more.

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