The Moon is a Lady and so is my Wife
In the expanding universe of our world,
one similar to others and yet unique,
there orbits in the life that’s ours
just a pair of circling stars;
no others do we seek.
Like satellites: split from each other we are,
celestial bodies captured within our gravitas.
Love formed in orbit around us as our friendship grew.
the Maria of your life; deceptive and protective;
yet your significant Plato still visible to the naked eye:
such dryness the irony of your Tychon past.
The surface of your life, scarred by cosmic impact;
hard to penetrate, to let new love in-
protecting a molten core; passion-hot and constantly moving.
The lava of your inner soul welling up to heal the scars that bind.
You are made of the same stuff as I
but in different configurations.
The moment that we met
was the magic moment of eclipse;
just Baily’s Beads of fatherhood
escaped your all-encompassing presence-
your shimmering, glimmering iridescence.
The months we took to gravitate
are existentially apt.
For at that time
our orbits - then were rapt.
Our lives, our paths, are still our own:
we remain as individuals.
Eternally entwined on our path through life;
Our track totally complete - undeterable.
The paradox of my earthly days
is now opposite to fact.
My days they pass so quickly as
we grow closer in our pact.
The natural satellite of my earth,
partner to all that surrounds my life:
I gravitate to you
and float when I’m around you.
My tides ebb and flow in conjunction with your pull
as you cycle through your phases of life:
the shadow is lifted,
he sunshine of our love banishes my darkness
as you wax and wane;
I discover new variations in you -
how your temperate side can turn to ice in a moment,
yet our love returns with your smile, and you thaw.
Each morning my Earthrise hoves into my day
and warms me each second as I go upon my way.
At night your constant closeness
nails your star onto my mast
as we sail into the future and Heaven’s shores at last.
My glory is reflected from your light:
sustains me through the long days,
and as I ride the waves of night.
Moonshine across this land;
Moondance me to make me warm;
Moonstone stands upon your hand;
Moonrise with me every morn.
my moon rose the day we met -
though all that glisters is not gold,
the greatest treasure in my arms I hold.
Now most spend their time staring at the sun,
revelling in its cosmic rays;
not seeing the stare of a gun.
But me, I look to a different sky,
one that is filled with a different heat;
that of passion, and love; a fire that won’t
fed by love’s everlasting fuel -
an orb that shines upon my life.
As Hutton said, in Scottish brogue,
“no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end”.
And though she may wax,
may she never
though know if she doth,
my love will remain
as constant as that day
hat her light eclipsed the stellar rain.
And after all,
the Sun is eclipsed by the