He looks out
his window.

And I look out
mine.

Between us
there is
the little matter of a thousand years or so.

We both
look at the moon.

I look back
at his past moon

and he looks forward
into mine.

The loneliness
is the same.

Through the window
of his poem

We both look
at the same moon

Feel the same pain.

The book falls at my feet.
I fall asleep.

He still awake
thousand of years ago.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-moon-never-sleeps/