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A Foggy Day on the Moon

Above, the moon gleams in flow.

The meadow of clouds stretches

In altitude beneath the glow.

In disgrace they lay in stresses,

I watch as craters of hollowness

Vanish with eyes ajar.

In pain as they wane afar

Amidst the gaseous heaven,

Among the dancing stars,

Its brightness fades in beams of twinkling stars.

So, there I floated, as one of millions,

Hoping to be forgiven by a legion

Of nameless yet shining soul.

But my effort was denied by a heartless soul,

Whose origin resides in a body of my own.

Now, even in retrieval of reminiscence, I witness a cloud of coal;

The scatter of dust suspended across what is known as the “mind,”

And for this, I often turn and find myself blind.

Only if, only if, there is such thing like that to return to the past,

I’d give up anything to earn for that pass.

What it is that remains, I no longer fathom, for my grasp of phantom

Already descended from the given heaven.

So again, and above, in remorse the moon reflects on the many souls left in regret.

But oh! How vicious they get as I check them with delight, with gentle eye of fret.

I cast a wand all day and night, a wand of bond in my deep pond to deflect my never-ending

Awe – how little it seems yet in frightening dark, it hunts on my dreams.

By: Andy Liang

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