The First Forgotten Dew

In my lost memory
Like a forgotten sleep
The first forgotten dew
Lingers
Spread across the fine first sky
Like a web of stars
The way
It always has.

This was my childhood realization
Anyway
My childhood observation
At the very least
Despite the noise of youngling years
As I stared into the sky
And held the moon
Between my thumb and forefinger 
Only to realize
How small I was
That my apparent largeness
Was just an illusion
But grandma loved me anyway
Because that was who she was,
What she did.

Still that's the thing about poetry
If you wanna be good at it
You gotta die first 
But you can't die until you're done
And you're never done
And you'll never understand the moon
Anyway
Not the way it was
Meant to be understood
Anyway
Like the fine firstness
Of all fine first things
So simple in their simple majesty
That even children understand
What the grown ups forget.

And no one
Ever knows
What the fuck you're talking about
Anyway
You know:
That first spinning light
And what not
You know: 
The origin of all things
And what not.
You know:
The first forgotten dew
Of all
First, forgotten things.
You know what I'm talking about
Don't you:
The only thing
That matters?
But then again
You probably don't.
Then again
I probably should have known better.

Even the child i was knew better
Than to say it out loud
The way I did
So long ago
That it doesn't matter anymore
When the moon made fun of me and grandma
While grandma gazed on
Bewildered by us both.