Your soul went to the moon

moon poem
” The moon is dead. Your soul went to the moon, to the preserver of souls.
Thus the soul moved toward death” C. Jung

Man should not go to the moon
only souls making their first migration
stopping over to check their destination
anxious ticket holders in the terminal lounge

when the lunar isle is packed with travellers
she turns full circle and beams collective memories
faces of course, an old man, banyan tree
rabbit mixing cakes of immortality*

even if the runes are least auspicious
a few pilgrims sojourn in that quarter light
devotees and the hell-bent followers
of beautiful Beulah and forever afters

most men are magnetically earth bound
drawn only to her opalesencent orb in art
muchado their songs of romance
no more nor less than mooncalf mania

yet how our ghostly satellite entrances
cynosure of the enlightened spirit
perhaps we visit you in dreams
like vacationers browsing the brochures

©Laura Granby 2016

*people perceive different moon pareidolia according to their culture and hemisphere

Giving Jung a whirl as Grace takes us moon-musing with this week’s ‘Poetics