Just before the dark moon,
A slender sliver of light –
Like a piece of onion skin –
Rises into the sky near sunrise.
The next lunar phase,
Like a gaping empty mouth
Of a Black Hole,
Swallows that crumb and starts over,
Adding layer upon layer of meaning each night
Until a globose onion gleaming
Inside its translucent sheath
Hangs like a Japanese lantern
Shining through its parchment,
Voluminous as the Book of Life –
My deeds, both good and bad,
Are scribed on every page.
Does the ink bleed through
So that today’s transgressions
Leak into tomorrow
Staining it with lesser motives,
Obliterating the light within?
As a dark growth of black mold
pollutes the purer inner skin of childhood,
I begin to peel this moon
And tears flow freely
As I cut out the spoiled patches of sin –
The offensive slime that feeds on the sweetness –
And soon I have cut all but a thin crust,
That slender sliver
just before the new moon.
A Slender Sliver Of Light
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