The Moon Poem by FABIYAS M V

Apollo 11 reshapes thousands of thoughts and beliefs
on the earth,
sprawling on the lunar lap.

I wish I could collect those pre-Apollo eyes
from the sand
and show them the moon is not God.
But they belong to
the same species living in peace of ignorance today.

Fanaticism is a fireball.
True belief illuminates like the moon.
Prayer prevents the immoral anarchy.

Not a reflection of sunlight,
it's nature's solace spreading over the wounds.

How differently it shines in science and literature!
It's as veracious as a breccia
that the moon is dusty, gritty and abrasive.
But that hare is more beautiful than the rocky truth.



First printed in The Literary Hatchet