Born on a Waning Moon

By a misty route of a forlorn night, The moonchild walks between life and plight. Being caught between the mystic pull, The moon is waning not in full. As darkness sprawls in deepest creep, You hear the grieving weep and weep. Alas, alas! Take me to the moon – the mother nature of the gentlest boon. Though you are of incompleteness and I am too, My heart and soul is here – the same as you. You are never a shining diamond, Up there, cheering in the sweetest almond.

dedicated to Hangyin