A New Lunar Month

On the new-sliver Moon,
I wipe away the dust of days
that waned as time swelled,
spent incense, and wax drippings.
I light the candle hungering
for the fire to quicken it.

I eat chocolate-date rice toast
and drink morning matcha and clean
and come to still prayer at last
while the summer light brightens
the blinds and plants curl up,
my waking too late to see her.
I have faith our crescent is there,
hidden in the veil of the Sun.

The Moon has left his house,
Gods within her, packed brimless;
the crescent has left her house,
Gods upon him, without limit.

I am hungering for waxing days,
illumination at night, the times
when — as the man said in my dream
last night — the cool night softens
under a gentle relentlessness,
when sleep comes fretfully, unsure,
and the candlelight beckons out
gentle Gods, soothing spirits,
while the candle-wax burns down
to lightless Moon, to deep night.

2022.07.30

🌙