The Illusion of Knowledge

For Pep, in memorium

How foolish to trust the moon,

– la luna, luna, luna –

which gypsies know for a liar

and a thief of small boys.

How fully I trusted the moon

– la luna, luna, luna –

to hold you in my gaze

and reflect you in my eyes.

Full moon over water dances

as in a foundry shimmering

with love, her light gathering

you and me

our separate yearnings.

Serene moon,

discreet guardian of all

that was tender and new.

Delicate us.

And, oh, how she,

tremendous,

lily white, rose

over the placid harbor.

In her magnificence the moon

– la luna, luna, luna –

called me to you and –

I imagined, implored, ordained –

called you to me.

‘Shoo, moon, moon, moon’

I should have said,

but I was not jealous and did not fear

treachery. She was

our depository, our safeguard.

Untrustworthy moon.

– la luna, luna, luna –

She could have held you,

kept you, let me gaze upon you still.

Lily white she rises.

– la luna, luna, luna –

temptress of little boys,

spinning tales like silver rings.

I gaze in vain, despairing

and yearning, unsay your name.

 This week's community-judged   word is LIGHT (noun) 3: a source of light: as: a: a celestial body; b: candle;  c: an electric light