real icon

in a world draped in black
a glowing moon is waning back
nestled in a negative sky
hard to see her reason
the round diminishes slowly from sight
the night-time long from daylight bright.

iridescent moon so old she knows no time
tolerating poets
telling of her beauty
in verse and rhyme

still the question is
what makes the moon sublime?
an achievement of the Gods
in earth’s creation
to light our way
to draw us close as life is looking up
to see the merry minstrel in her face

lamp-lights on the busy streets
mirror yet cannot compete
for nature is the truest one
as ever was a real icon.