Wednesday, May 15, 2024

When the Moon Speaks


                                                 for Brian Eno 



When the moon whispers dust falls 
  like a million snow flakes 
When the moon sighs the wind slips by 
  When the moon laughs a storm
  churns up in remote regions 
and when the moon whimpers
   a legion of cicadas echoes the call 
 
When the moon falls like the final teardrop
  When the moon stalls and blushes before a kiss
 the moon will rush toward all of us 
  with an enveloping shadow eclipse 
 like the sudden moment each night 
  that goes by unrealized when we shut our eyes 
just before sliding into a dream 
   The moon is always what it seems 
    The moon's full to burst with cunning 

   In its repetitive wake we're lulled to sleep
  even while the rhythmic tides are pulled
 toward us as it circles our planet like a wolf
  and mother, the moon shines at night 
   as one of the sisters of mercy running 
the moon can become a rapturous sight 
  infecting the minds of the clergy 
 as readily as the dispositions of the depraved
  The moon is harvesting energy 

  The moon doesn't care if we're lost or saved
  as far as its concerned it wants to keep us moving
 The moon is my shepherd, I shall not want 
   It makes me feel so high, through meadows green
 The moon leads me through the silenced waters by
  With a frightful spin it helps release my soul 
 and taketh me upon its wings to many places 
  The moon converts me to a believer 
 For lo, the moon hath great power
  and an even greater hunger to feed
  upon the fields of human plankton 
 in silent reflection and steady dedication
  
  The moon will rise up as surely as the Sun
   reflected in our eyes when the day is done 
  The moon likes to go sailing out at night 
  or on a breezy afternoon with the starlight shining
 all the while the moon acts as a shield 
  for the forged and tempered sword 
   of the technology humans wield 
 
The moon's a corporate logo 
   etched with tribal scarification 
 The moon's a beautiful tattoo 
  upon the face of all creation  
 an anomaly embedded on the velvet sky of night
 The moon has become wedded to our sight
 A colossal source of mystery with a hidden secret 
  kept from its legion of novitiates 
 
The moon's unknown mystique can be heard
  whenever the word becomes unraveled
 in our ears as a lonely siren song 
 The moon appears to take too long 
to reach its goal and claim our souls
  The moon is never wrong
 It purifies the sky as it goes
  Skimming the exosphere with an aurora
 dragging sparks like a fingernail 
  scratching on a coffin lid
lighting up the darkness 
 hiding its enigma in compartments
   Every so often the moon appears to be
 here to stay, an anchor to our symmetry 

The moon rolls away from us to the other side
  Behind the clouds it wears a veil 
  as in the ceremony of a bride 
 walking closer to the altar to make
her sacrifice, the moon can be cruel 
 and seduce you with its shimmering
 The moon can be alluring and vicious
  Goading one on to become more suspicious
 that it's an agent of oblivion, a delegate of fear
 appearing every night, week, month and year

The moon can be a beggar or as regal as a king
  Just think of all the artistry the moon can bring
while it hovers just beyond our reach so near
Into the distance mysteriously it disappears
because the moon itself is so very far away
sitting on the highest shelf both night and day 
The moon becomes a paragon of loss
  and newfound discoveries more ancient than moss
The moon cannot be rhymed with itself 
 nor can it ever be truly seen in a mirror
 The moon becomes a vampire once a month 
  inspiring careless love and terror
   As it feeds upon Lilith's opulent blossoms 
 The moon becomes motherfucking awesome 

Clearly, enough cannot be said about the moon
 It's gravity acts as a permanent spell
on our waking consciousness for better or ill
The moon may be an omen to some now and then
and a blessing to others, it just depends 
 The moon may have been crafted with artful concern
or the moon may just be a monumental urn
filled with the ashes of generations of the dead
 laid to rest upon its surface over the ages 
we've been led to get swept up by the wind
to wither and turn into so much dust
and detritus that merges with the mulch as we must

The moon may as well be the monarch of earth
  to transform back into a worm in reverse 
The moon ain't nothing to fuck with
  as it sails into the blackness of night
The moon seems to simply be waiting
  eventually to be reclaimed by the light 
The moon becomes a stark reminder 
  that the clock is always ticking
You may look and never find her
  behind our back the moon is tricky
 playing a game of hide and seek
The moon can give us strength
  The moon remains an icon
    The moon must stay true
      The moon will rise and fall
       The moon is chasing after you.


 
  
   

   


1 comment:

  1. I composed these lyrics today to honor Brian Eno in celebration of his 74th birthday

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