Let men burn stars out from innocuous lightyears pulled through the vortex
Like needle and thread, sown by centuries of sparked, graceful union
(Their strength and vigor found in the cross-stitching)
And ever gently unfolding like outer reach, like inner *****
In the garden of our senses, flowing with milk and honey, by means of forethought or afterglow
One thought of ecstasy, one thought of infinite parable taking new light to bed
The sacred beams bending to form a crescent, a lunula of utmost happiness
Clair de Lune: Light of the moon.
