“A lovely moon tonight” she said.
“It’s the same moon it was last night” he said.
“It looks slightly different somehow” she said.
“It’s exactly the same ****** moon” he said.
“I think it’s fuller tonight” she said.
“Of course it’s fuller tonight” he said.
“It’s brighter and gayer tonight” she said.
“The moon is no gayer tonight” he said.
“It seemed so sad last night” she said.
“How could the moon seem sad?” he said.
      “The moon dies every night” she said.
      “And ferries the souls of the recently dead,
        Into the darkness just out of reach
        It circles the globe unseen and *****  
        It pries open the sky at evening’s breach
The moon has been reborn” she said.
He gave her a look of scorn and dread
“What’s gotten into your head?”
“A lovely moon tonight” she said.

I love to listen to His voice
It is cozy yet forceful
It can move my table and chair
It deeply penetrates to the veins of my heart
up to the tip of my fingers when I write
I follow His voice from the words
He wants to embed in every eye of the readers

He is the poet

By the way
I am His writer and ambassador.