The loneliness is immense,
rounded, like a halo.
Maybe it’s holy, too.
I wonder if it spills
from me like
the milk from the moon.
Lighting the way, maybe
a companion of itself.
It’s lighter than
the Other responsibility
but somehow bigger.
Not peace-less yet
not a piece of anything
puzzled or partnered.
I wonder if the moon gets lonely.
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