The Man Who Ate the Moonlight

The Man Who Ate the Moonlight

They said he wandered through the fields,

Collecting stars with jars of glass,

He caught the moonlight in his palms,

And fed on dreams that came to pass.

He lived alone beside the woods,

His house half wild, his garden strange,

The townsfolk called him odd, unhinged,

A man beyond their proper range.

But when the nights were soft and clear,

And every soul lay wrapped in rest,

He’d hum a song the moon would hear,

And light would fall upon his chest.

He said he’d swallowed silver beams,

To keep the dark from eating through,

He said that when he closed his eyes,

The world was born in shades anew.

And when he died, they found his room,

Still glowing faint from floor to wall,

And on his lips, a gentle smile,

As if he’d tasted light of all.