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Here's a little something that I came up with one evening after getting home late. On that particular night the moon looked very orange in the sky and I had paused to look at it several times. Once I was home, I turned on the news. A couple of hours later, this just seemed to burst into my head and explode out of my fingers, into the keyboard and onto the screen.

Feedback is always appreciated. :)

BLOOD RED MOON

I gaze upon a blood red moon hanging low, there in the sky
It brings to mind a distant past when superstition ran so high
A history of intolerance, where being different was a sin
Mistakes repeated more than once, and now today, once again

Have we changed so little then, that population, as a whole
will reject the changing times and mutilate an unlike soul?

The blood red moon seems to pulse, giving off an eerie light
Judging our society and it's stance on wrong from right
Questioning our ability to stand back and clearly see
That our hate steals our vision and our grand nobility

And have our hearts, as a nation, become so immune
that we can watch people die, with no feeling to commune?

Hidden by a floating cloud, the blood red moon peeks around
Watching me, as I watch it, not daring now to make a sound
A crushing thought creeps through my mind, tries to smother me
as I slowly realize that our delusion is that virtue, called civility.

Do we, as a people, still believe that mass suppression
will not hurt our souls and fill us with depression?

Coming out of hiding now, the blood red moon shines brightly
As I wrap my arms around myself and hold on so very tightly
Shaken to the core by this insight, a misty red revelation
I see now that we are a torn and broken nation

Can we come together again, despite our mixed belief
and provide our fellow man with succor and relief?

I turn from the blood red moon, my thoughts I cannot bear
When I hear the wind whisper softly 'I am always there'.
I turn back in surprise and see the sun on the horizon
Chasing back the blood red moon, and with it there is reason.

I lift my face to the light and let its warmth dry my tears
as I let my spirit soar and release its darkest fears
Knowing that as long as we can hold on to our hope
We will always find the courage and the faith to cope

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Replies to This Discussion

I love that. On the part where it talks about being different, it made me think of Salem in the 1800's. You have real talent. It's interesting what can inspire a story. For instance, a very creative person could look at a tire, see it as a chocolate cookie, and end up writing a story about a secret organization hidden by a bakery. Haha!
Bravo, Stephanie! I like the imagery and the sentiment. Holding onto hope on some days is all we have, but is still enough. :)
Nice work Stephanie. I deeply hope we can come together again...

Isn't it fantastic when those exploding fingertip moments occur? I wish they did more often for me. :)
I love it when that happens! I just wish I could get it all down before I forget. Most of the time, after I write, my fingers hurt!

scribbler said:
Nice work Stephanie. I deeply hope we can come together again...

Isn't it fantastic when those exploding fingertip moments occur? I wish they did more often for me. :)

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