Upon this day, with lifted eye,
Man dares to pierce the silver sky—
To glimpse, at last, that shadowed face
Long hidden from his own embrace.
The Moon, once whole in gentle gleam,
Now splits the veil of mirrored dream;
Its brighter cheek no more deceives—
For night itself at last reveals.
What waits beyond that pallid rim?
No hymn of light—no seraph’s hymn—
But silence vast, and ancient cold,
Where darker truths lie still untold.
So too within the breast of Man,
There yawns a gulf no chart may span;
A hemisphere of secret dread,
Where nameless thoughts lie cold and dead.
And as he gazes, pale with awe,
He sees not rock—but something raw:
A reflection, stark, without disguise—
The Moon’s dark side… and his own eyes.
