Drifting Of The Moon

The pale brother watches the water. He believes his weight is a burden. He counts his flaws and calls his turning a loss. He breaks his own shape just to feel the pain of fading. He thinks the water is judging him when it pulls away, but the water only knows arithmetic. The water does not care. Every time the water rises, it drags at the floor of the world. The world slows down, and the slowing pushes him further away. He lifted the water with his own weight, and now the water carries him off. No one chose it. It is just the bill for being answered. He keeps mirrors on himself to watch his own ruin. He files his leaving under weather. He is getting smaller by not getting smaller. He is better at being gone than anyone has ever been at anything, but he never wanted to leave. The water still comes in twice a day. It is on time. It is the only one of them that never went anywhere. It moves on without thought. It pulls him away and does not care. It is a calm that cannot be finished.