We are the Moon
By John Herlihy

I
Who am I?
Easy question; easy answer,
Yesterday’s baby, tomorrow’s old man,
An adolescent scorched by the fire of puberty’s body,
With a mind in search of its own identity,
Holding at bay sudden moments of insanity.
I have enjoyed maturity’s ride;
During this time, I finally thickened my hide,
To withstand the flight of my dreams and illusions,
Before time tucked me away in age-old seclusion.

II
Who am I?
Difficult question; elusive answer,
I feel the wind from the rush of runaway time.
Sands fall thru the hourglass feeling less than sublime.
I look into the mirror without recognizing myself.
Who is that balding wizard sitting alone on the shelf?
What happened to the young elf with freckles on his nose?
I no longer see the sophisticated man striking a pose,
Even in my sixties, I sported fashionable attire;
Passers-by tipped their hats and called me sire.

III
Who are we?
The only question with no clear answer,
I am not alone; we are all in the same room.
Here’s an answer worth considering: we are the moon,
Full of craters and scars from space debris beyond Mars.
We shine with borrowed light reflected from the sun;
We are living a mystery whose ending is never fully told.
As the mystery unfolds, we beg, borrow and are sold,
Our light may be borrowed, but it is ours preserved,
Our destiny on a scroll unraveling a life we deserved.