the.... man. in the Moon.

Nights first starlings flock to hear, of a
time when lush twilight is near...
The Moon poses a question. Though I
attempt each eve'
only the sun is fit to answer.
When I wake I try to recall
if I went insane - or just dreamed it, but the
quill in my
mind has scratched too deep.. I
fall through each day until I face my
foe again. Though my thoughts
beat frantically at the Moon's great
drum -
There's no rhythm ...
I'm afraid I'll
shatter the great silver
face...
the greatest mirror I've ever seen