BB Grey–musings

Even a Moon Must Set
Even a moon must set, return,
Slip soft into shadow’s churn.
Luna, once my tide, my glow,
A silver pull I used to know—
Now dims beneath a wider arc,
A fading gleam, a cooling spark.

Every sky holds a little blue,
A bruise of dusk, a fleeting hue.
But Sol—it burns, bright and true,
A flame no cloud can smother through.
Gray cloaks the dawn, a morning fade,
A shallow grave where night’s unmade—
Yet still it rises, bold, unseen,
A heat that cuts through mist’s dull screen.

I can’t be eclipsed by lunar wane,
Though she looms, a quiet reign.
Bigger, yes, and ever there,
A gravity threading through the air—
All are drawn, all must bend,
To cycles born without an end.
But Luna’s tide no longer sways,
Her pull dissolves in Sol’s new rays.

So goodbye, Luna, cold and still,
Your orbit frays, your shadows spill.
Hello, Sky, vast in between,
A canvas torn, a stitched-up seam—
So full of Sol, that golden dare,
A fire blooming through the air.