"The skies, a captivating gaze,
They shimmer with an Auburn haze.
The end of summer? More akin to the end of days.

Wars persist, blood perpetually shed,
Yet amid this chaos, I find myself led.
Like the clouds and stars, sun and air.

The moon, my companion, stands tall, mid-air.
Despite atrocities and clouds that drift by,
Our vision distorts, it stands within the sky.

The moon, like us, eludes touch,
Unable to fathom reality's clutch.
Perhaps mirroring how most perceive,
Seeing but not acting, as if we don't care.

If the moon mirrors our passivity,
What action could it, or we, truly see?
An allegory, or merely a thought confined to my mind?" - Trystin M.D Rehfeld

© Trystin M.D Rehfeld