Have you ever let the night sky blanket you during the dead of night?
  The barest of clouds invited to a masquerade with the subjects of the moon,
pirouetting with such grace and skill that it appears to be a work of the gods?
  She is a silent melody whispered to those who listen
  Did you know that the moon is warm?
  A golden halo radiating her beauty,
beaconing your gaze towards her
  She is a haven,
sanctuary,
the only one I can truly call home and the guide who watches over me
  I know that if nothing else,
there is the moon.