the moon wears his silent mask
     to hide from me;
but still i see his faint glow
     of beauty, disappearing,
mesmerizing, captivating,
     inviting me to his lonely dance.

so i do, in his empty craters
     more gray than the dress i wear;
i become more sullen than he is,
     yet satisfied
in a sad oblivious way:
     being lost in his music that cannot
          be played, cannot be heard.
so i think he wears his music
     to hide me from the world.