age 15

The enchanting  clear light

Of the immortal moon

Captivates my soul and brings me

To my knees.

Arms outstretched to cleanse myself

 In its silver shine

I am flooded with serenity.

But through a shrouded windy night

In this pit of sunken shadow

My being is in turmoil!

Cringing – exultant -

Cowering – triumphant -

Under the pouring essence

Of the lustrous sphere

Vying with storm-pushed clouds

Scudding ever onwards

Illuminated linings

With hearts

As black as coal.

Cynthia Buell Thomas

age 15