This pretentious rant is just me taunting the universe for answers I will never have.

Too soon, The Moon,
With all its shadows passing,
Fades into the morning light.
One star, I see, to follow it
Into the horizon, its light
Upon the world lost to
A new day, beset with
Its own special "perils."
The quietness broken
Like a sword upon the wall,
Whose leathern scabbard
Now worn with age, doth follow
Its brethren into decay,
And loose the sword,
To cut into the floor.
Are we ever to see that cycle,
That gentle destruction,
That maddening creation?
Are we ever to know its name?
Eyes wide, we lift our gaze
To the morning, but bow to the night.
We lie in The Sun,
But hide from the moonlight.
Are we not creatures
Of both realms?
Yes but reluctant ones.
And that is the key
We hide from ourselves.
For if it is consolation we seek
We will be denied it.
If we look for quietness
We will find it in ourselves
Mixed with fury and even destruction,
For those are ours also.
We encompass the height and breadth of life
The beauty and sorrow, rage and jealousy
Joy and majesty.
For we look both within ourselves
And at the world with the same gaze
And at the same time.
We are our consolation.
We are the tears we cry.