CRESCENT

The skyward assumption of some cut off nail

Spilled-tar skies keen to light-up without fail

Month after month in persistence perplexing

What keeps him going is, knowing he’s waxing

Heedless of clouds, keen to kindle the scene

And being weak, to get brighter quite keen

To live or not live, it’s hardly so taxing

What keeps him going is, knowing he’s waxing

Stumbling on spires in darkness ungiving

Weighing the pros and cons, once more, of living

To blaze the sky is the feeling he’s eyeing

And being none too bright, nightly keeps trying