Waning Gibbous

It looked full

but was apparently waning

like my patience.

It followed me all the way,

lit something in me,

hope perhaps,

for the new day.

A constant

that always changes

swapping places daily

sometimes hiding

but always impending,

it’s just a matter of timing.

How does it affect so much down here?

Controls the waves,

just not the one we’re currently wading in.

Can it see tomorrow?

Does it know how this will unfold?

Is this hope mis-sold?

Who knows