Sitting on the Moon


It is spectacularly beautiful

Spun like a Christmas ornament

On a tree lit by the stars

One of so very many


Evils become small

And factions fall away

Into the nothingness beyond

Blown by stellar winds


A fragile orb of blue and white

Imperfectly perfect

As distance gives safety

From the troubles in the dirt


Making snow angels in the dust

That traces every moment touched

A lifeless place from which to see

All that life can be, save unity


I never want to leave this place

See the horrors face to face

When the world looks so perfect

Sitting on the moon


18 Responses to “Sitting on the Moon”
  1. A great poetic imagination, and if moon can ever share a bit of atmosphere from earth, I would suggest this work to be inscribed on the surface moon, like an ode. As usual wonderfully imaginative Brad. πŸ‘ŒπŸ˜Š

  2. “Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…” Of course, there is also “This is ground control to Major Tom…” All I know is that, if you’re going, you’d better be taking me along!

  3. beth says:

    A great place to be and looking down on all going on here –

  4. kristianw84 says:

    What a magical sight that be! Beautifully written, as always!

  5. jonicaggiano says:

    This is so beautifully written Brad. So creative.

    β€œEvils become small

    And factions fall away

    Into the nothingness beyond”

    I love this stanza Brad and your ending is perfect.
    Hope you are having a great Sunday and staying safe my friend. Sending bundles of love and hugs.
    Love ya πŸ’•πŸ€—β€οΈπŸ¦‹πŸŒΉJonikins

    Blown by stellar winds

  6. Jim Borden says:

    perhaps all we need to do is to change our perspective to see things in a different light…

  7. Francisco Bravo Cabrera says:

    Definitely it is a must to sit on that moon every once in a while and look beyond to the earth below. Great work my friend!

  8. Doug says:

    From a distance wispy trees haunt. Might there be many blue ornaments in a branching universe with wisps of galaxies spinning thin promises in stellar winds, but then, yes, perhaps, somewhere is a stellar personality like a Hollywood star falling into grace, who inhabits a planet with a garden of angels and they, being of sound spirit, make Christmas cookies and pizza with a devil-may-care attitude jumping about like a friendly ghost who knows wispy things that bump in the kindly night.

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