Upon my eyes the moon and your skin glow,
Both white faces pilgrims in the southland,
And each her orbit fixed round this below,
For one the Earth and you this earthbound man.
And we two rolling under sleepless wax
Wax full our burning selenography
Adjoined across ill-tempered circumstance—
Miles his mortars, time our adversary.
Each hour is always too late, reunions far
Between the moon and sun the dream too brief,
These glowing moments here, these embers are
The stolen sparks of sleeplessness’ relief.
I rise for you until we set as one,
And where you go, insomniac, I come.
