Oh Keeper of the Night,
You are but a mystery
To one twilight smile upon us
and then the next not to be seen

Oh Mother of Light
to wane but never disappear
Giving us great comfort
Saying you are always there

Stars drip from your eyes
tears like crystals fall
even through your pain
you leave me here struck with awe

That through the sorrow
You give us a light
to dim while we sleep
to guide us through the night

Oh Lover of the dreamers
I long to bask in your rays
to calm my aching heart
to leave me in a daze

Oh your gentle curves
and sweet, pale complexion
Each crater and mount,
designed with perfection

Ages will pass
With different times and stories
but no matter the time or place
no man can escape your glory

air is growing thin
as I float off the ground
the dreamers finally awake
now nothing holds me down

wandering into space
passing the atmosphere
seems my perspective
is too cavalier

running out of oxygen,
breathing goes slow
my dewy eyes reflect the stars,
like a canvas of Van Gogh's

I hear vibrations
this is my castle past the sky
where no-one asks how,
and I never wonder why

my body grows numb
as I float past stars
through my veins,
flows my liquid heart

peace like a wave
rushes over me
laying on this cosmic foam
it gets hard to breathe

I shed a tear
and then another arose
soon I was surrounded with these crystals
as each drop froze

with no gravity,
my walls collapsed
loosing all feeling,
I couldn't react

a syrupy smile spread
across my softened face
so do not be concerned
if you see a girl floating in space

a flower
u n b l o s s o m e d
a lover
f o r g o t t e n
a mirror
s h a t t e r e d
a heart
b a t t e r e d
as are these, beauty
b l u n t e d
as I am, one
u n w a n t e d

fear,
but a string

the strand drawn from the
depths of our souls,
composed of insecurity,
fragility,
anguish

it was the string from which I hung

One night the moon whispered her secrets
into the breeze,
who carried it in a song
to blow though the trees

There it settled
with it's consonants and vowels
Then away flew the moon's words
on the wings of an owl

Her voice traveled a great distance
till the little bird reached light
There through the window
was a writer in the night

So out perched the bird,
words whoo-ed into the silence
to be picked up by a candle's flame,
to reach the writer's iris

It was then in the dark
that the ink flowed onto a page
It was then in the dark
that the author's mind blazed

Times goes by
and we read these words, finely tuned
from the writer in the dark,
the messenger for the moon