Light not of your core.
You are a dusty old
satellite that pulls the
waters by your gravity,
not your excellence.
My faith in your power
is something I never
speak of anymore
Don’t cry for me orb
I have moved onto
a plan to accept your
indifference to my
suffering and to howl
when you appear
Stupid plan of course
but in the absence of
Divine intervention a phase
I have to go through
Maybe randomness is next
to godliness, or on top.
My innocence is gone
but each night I say
goodnight dear moon.
biochicklet 