moon

this doesnt make sense but poems dont have to

Passing through the field below,
Staring up at the glittering ceiling.
Each star a jewel to my eye.
Walking, Jogging, Running,
through the dead and unmourned,
Empty eyes looking on at me,
As if I could change their fate.
But beneath the moon I am nothing,
for all feeling I have within me
is used up for,
that beautiful blue orb,
the moon