Just before the dark moon, br A slender sliver of light - br Like a piece of onion skin - br Rises into the sky near sunrise. br The next lunar phase, br Like a gaping empty mouth br Of a Black Hole, br Swallows that crumb and starts over, br Adding layer upon layer of meaning each night br Until a globose onion gleaming br Inside its translucent sheath br Hangs like a Japanese lantern br Shining through its parchment, br Voluminous as the Book of Life - br My deeds, both good and bad, br Are scribed on every page. br Does the ink bleed through br So that today's transgressions br Leak into tomorrow br Staining it with lesser motives, br Obliterating the light within? br As a dark growth of black mold br pollutes the purer inner skin of childhood, br I begin to peel this moon br And tears flow freely br As I cut out the spoiled patches of sin - br The offensive slime that feeds on the sweetness - br And soon I have cut all but a thin crust, br That slender sliver br just before the new moon.