DARK MOON
Came through a dark moon over discarded hills
Away from the swamp-vapours multiplying ills
Silent fears in the night and ghostly chill
Away from little house sheltering under a hill
The morning was cold and bright
As we loaded the bike
Panniers, sewing machine and all
I curled up next to my dear transport
I was sunken in a bizarre dream
Of endless travel, seeking infinite soul
To find God and re-unify self, becoming whole.
Copyright © Christopher Hudson (2025)
