when the sallow moon rises from her hidden slumber and the stars light their unimaginably distant fires, i slip under my fleece cocoon and curl into the waking dreams of sleep.
my thoughts lose their borders, flowing into an erratic pulse of flashing images and wild colors. in these dreams, you are a tidal wave. you swell before me, dark and enigmatic, a monstrous shadow. you are deep and murky, making my heart race with the fear and excitement of the unknown.
under the forgiving moon, i allow my mind to hope for things unlikely and far-off. but when that pallid face slips behind the earth and the arrogant sun climbs up with a blinding smirk, i turn my own face toward the mirror and stare into his begrudging truth: i am not first place, i am not the best, but i am just good enough, and that is plenty for me.