it is from the moon
by giving it a name
or a purpose
to seek to explain
that this seed is extracted from me
and becomes lost in the ether.

this process
this craft, is mine to hold
and mine alone, to lose or ramble.
the structure that is craved
for this search holds purely futile.

it is not for title
or fear, nor guilt
but for love
that i write this verse
alone, in a darkened room
always alone