Stone
moon, mountain moon—
Like
Sisyphus I labor, rolling the moon uphill.
I
fear failing, falling through Saturn’s rings;
Through
the dust and debris that marks my boundaries
But
cannot hold me; cannot keep me
From
tumbling to the bottom of the well.
Distant
moon, unrelenting moon—
I
am the pawn destiny has made me.
Life
is but a dream of progress
As
I’m driven towards the summit.
Unable
to quit climbing, I grow colder as I ascend,
And
risk freezing solid if I dare to stop.
Solemn
moon, practical moon—
I
seek penance in perfection, performing my endless tasks
With
earth-clotted hands, moving forward on feet of clay.
I
reach ever onward, toward empty skies and depthless time,
Only
to begin alone again at the bottom of the well,
With
nothing but the moon to share my reflection.
Patient
moon, tenacious moon—
I
am stronger than the burden I am bound to.
I
know that for each time I stumble to the bottom,
I
will achieve the heights once again.
