Moon View

Well, no, I don’t have a voice.
I don’t have a point of view,
A mind, thoughts, words, or a pulse.

I’m stone. I don’t have a life,
And I don’t plan to get one.
You know this is all on you.

But why don’t you pause and think
This through. Use your words. What would
Earth be, from my point of view?

Yes, a swirled dish, blue and white.
But that’s it. Your day side bright,
Your night side now small gold flecks,

You’ve sent me a few steel pins.
They land with such a soft touch,
Not like all the rocks and dust

That plowed and carved my face up,
This face you’ve seen as a god,
A girl, a hare, an old man.

Sure, I know some of your tales.
Why not? I’m just here as words.
I’m not I, but if I were

I might not have cared for you,
If I’d have spied you at all
On grave Earth, yet to give birth.