On The Moon Poem by Shouvik Narayan Hore

Perhaps this July Moon shall wander no more.
The ever radiant object of this still sky,
Flyeth no more, nor feign sympathy's cry,
But remains present within deep heart's core.

Tranquil it shines, tranquillity's colour
Colours her pure soul; No Earthly pastel
Can reflect devotion to night so well,
This must be Nature's most truest valour.

No star adorns her, nor no cloud obstructs
The lone pilgrim's view- the pilgrim of love,
Who melancholy removes from worlds above,
As if her rays penetrate darkest ducts

No fancy entreat, for beauty's the end,
One who hast foreseen would higher be sent.