A silver coin adrift in midnight’s veil, The moon observes our fleeting human tale. She watched dynasties rise in jade halls bright, Then saw them crumble into silent night. Once poets raised their cups to chant her grace, Their ink-stained verses time would soon erase. Now lovers swear false oaths beneath her glow, While she remembers all she’s seen below. Her cold light falls on palace steps worn bare, On broken temples, on empty night air. Yet still she climbs her ancie...
