Our Mirrored Stay

I consider the moon, our likeness
lone and roaming dark the distant deeps and lacking
light within to cast
a lamp upon its lonely way.

I ponder long its nightly waking,
what was given, lost
from well without to lift
its darkened veil and light
its lofting fair.
Relating all the while with
that which lately rutterless roamed
reflecting now the full and fallen sun;
That which, had not the morning star
relenting westward bled,
would not have seen the road that led
nor shone amidst its leap
along its way.

My last reflection, last
but no less pressing lingers,
cresting toward the brink of morning's break;
our mirrored stay,
our days both marked and fleeting all
foreknown and headlong leading,
each like lures
have long been cast,
our purpose set, our path to seek
and find, but not to last.

For both, the waxing moon and I,
who only by the sun's descending
pale in semblance shone, will cease
our pallid climb at Dayspring's rise
to join the morning star.