Wednesday, October 19, 2005


The moon, manless, has no thought
For its beauty
It waxes and wanes
As geometry dictates.

Tugging tides, inspiring poems,
Taunting astronauts:
It could be said to do these
If it were not a lump of rock.

On Earth its path is carefully tracked
Noted, calculated, observed
But the Moon needs no map
Only the pulls of gravity.

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