Mare Crisium

 

Tomorrow was yesterday –
the day imagination
took flight;
the day my
sneakers
touched the
dust of that
distant world.

A sphere in the night,
chalky white,
I followed its
rise and fall;
the till of my telescope
set
upon the
Tranquil Sea.

With every passing,
I saw, in her
shadows,
a parade
of priests and kings;
the quaint illusions of
oracles and
poets unsung.

With every passing,
I saw, in her
shadows,
the promise of things to come.
A chance for
a boy of nine to
reach and touch
the stars.

Imagination!
How many daydreams
filled
my adolescent
mind?
How many daydreams
sifted through
the sands of time?

Imagination!
How many daydreams
litter
the landscape of
my life?
How many daydreams
died
with every setting sun?

Some scoff at
the notion that
I’ve lost my way;
that the dreams of a
boy of nine,
could ever be
tempered by the fires of
trouble and doubt.

They don’t see me as
I am today:
adrift on a
Sea of Storms;
hiding my fears for
tomorrow in the
darkness
of craters below.

Yet, tonight
I’ll look at the moon
anew,
and follow it’s
rise and fall.
I’ll seek in her shadows
the promise of
things to come.

For what is life without
illusion;
a parade
of priests and kings,
or the chance for
a man of forty-nine to
reach and touch
the stars.