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Softly the Moon

Softly the moon ascends the ladder of the night,
spilling its silver treasure on the world below,
and never wonders whether it may lose its height
nor fears its streams of light may sometime fail to flow.

It does not find it hard to glow in simple beauty
and knows no struggle for another’s higher place,
but, effortless, proceeds on its nocturnal duty,
content to send its beams from its appointed place.

Softly the moon ascends and lets its beauty shine,
Serene in its own place, as I would be mine.

by Max Dunaway

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