Cry for the moon

Abandoning the moon's gentle embrace,
you reach for the sun buried
beneath rotting layers of borrowed wisdom,
with hunger for company.

The sun is getting warmer,
the moon has peace to offer.
Pride and hunger urge you on,
and you're too blind with rage to beat retreat.

Your shovel breaks as the moon weans.
The sun dawns but there's no light.
The sun is the same moon in a different way
a frown, but a smile upside down.

You claw your way out,
and it's a different world.
The sun is still buried
but won't you cry for the moon?