Your limpid, glowing screen
A televisual mirror, reflecting what you want -or fear- to see
Simplistically, undimensionally substitutes
For Luna's sweet argent light.
She is but a rock slab, dusty and cold
Showing a hard, unfeeling face to the world
(And only about half of it, at that.)
Yet the squared-off static luminescence before you is but a dim pall,
Lacking the quirk of phases, the Dance of Shadow-On-Sphere;
As if concocted beauty and forced agreement could ever replace
Chaos and glorious discomfort!
Do your liquid crystals wax, wane?
Turn from new to sliver to gibbous, heedless of schedule?
If so, embrace the malfunction!
And fear not the E-clipse!
Sail upon that darkened, glassy sea
Let it swallow mistake after mistake
And light the current with bellwhether dreams
As it nudges you along.
-But don't forget to save
Lest you end up
Right back
Where
Your limpid,