Do not look at the moon.
We cannot scale those pallid walls,
The exiles, the deserted, the unloved.
The moon is the heart’s terrain
Mapped by the chosen ones,
The milk and honey flowing land.
They reap the stars’ harvest
Of promise and illusion with bird-
Flight eyes and quiet hands.
The moon is not for us
The strangers within the gates, the lost,
The deserted. Do not look.