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It’s quiet up here
And cold,
And dark
Like the light
On the surface is fractured
As it emanates
Its frigid glow.

Such is the shine
On the surface; 
A large contrast
Against the dark expanse.
But it’s dotted with stars,
As if in the darkness,
Even small light
Refuses to be consumed.

It’s quiet up here
And it swallows me
As I long to be enveloped
By something other
Than my loneliness.

But I’m not sad;
I’m merely curious
As to why
I’m the only one here.
But I find solace knowing
That people down there
Look up at me
And they too feel alone

And find comfort
In my light
As it shrouds them,
Diluting their solitude.
But why do they look up
When they can merely look around?
There’s no one up here;
No one but me
And the large, black expanse.

© E.R. Pulgar 2013


In today’s featured poem, E R Pulgar, a young writer from the US, uses the imagery of the moon, that ancient nocturnal watcher that has inspired poets and mystics throughout the ages, to tell a beautifully dark and melancholy tale. It’s a confidently constructed piece which takes an object we are all familiar with (and many of us have mused upon frequently) and uses it as a perfect metaphor for the life of the poet who is outside the normal flow of society looking inward.

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