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By the candlelight, I gazed at the moon,
Starry flowers lined the blue lagoon
Of fragile light.
And in my sight
Was loveliness.

Here I was, wanting to speak
Some words, wanting to seek
Some manner of expression;
Some thankful sensation
Of gratefulness.

Burning scarlet, the candle flame
Gave light, both wild and tame
According to the wind that blew
Suddenly. Yet the moon remained as true.

But my mind grew red and scarlet
As my pen refused to fly
with words like flowing water.
Between the blue and the red
There was no reconciliation.

Then my fingers moved in song
As they sang a luna moth.
Pale, shimmering wings and feelers long
And feathery, perfect both.

The pen lay dead,
I turned my head
Towards the candlelight.
The paper rustled in soft wind
As I held it close, to find
the flames eating the moth.

A wondrous sight.
No more contention
Between pale moon and candlelight.


19th August 1999