The Mystery of the Moon

One crystal-aired and clear-skied day
I wandered pondering away,
To discover if the tales were true;
Is lunar rock just cheese of blue?
I asked the solemn cows so wise, but all they said was "Moo".

I had heard told the deep blue sea
Could answer any mystery,
So went and stood on windswept shore;
Begged and pleaded, screamed and swore.
The waves to calm me murmured "Shhhh", but gave no answer more.

I went to university,
The learn-ed folk and library,
But they were in a picket line
With angry looks and waving signs.
It seemed they had their own questions and wouldn't answer mine.

I scaled the Himalayas,
(The grass, the rocks and icy layers)
To see if I could see from there
If it were stilton or gruyere.
Altitude sickness got me first- I need much thicker air.

Atlas mountains on camel road,
With Bedouin tribes and desert code.
I saw the moon more clearly then
Than I ever will again.
I saw how silly I had been and found a peace-like zen.

It was obvious to me
The moon's not rock or cheese of green!
It's each unanswered mystery;
The "what' if"s, "what now"s and "what's to bes";
The gotten undreamed and the great-never-had:
That's why She glows and why She's sad.

2 comments:

  1. thanks to Marlee for the travel inspiration! Xxxx

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  2. One of a winning pair of poems in the 2013 Manx LitFest Poetry Slam.

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