The Moon is a great actor He plays many roles A skilled magician He can make himself disappear
He can be round and fat Like he swallowed a cosmic balloon Or so discrete--crescent shaped as a pastry An angel seated upon his lap, lazily lounging in the night sky
He can be faint like a ghost Filmy and smoky, most mysterious Among the wispy clouds Or as a big brother to the stars
He is an inspiration A glorious night light To awakened dreamers And lovers gazing the heavens
He becomes a teacher To various artists Painters, poets and such Immortalized in print, canvas and stone
He is an orchestra leaderΒ Β To the howling wolves, banding in song An icon of beauty to the human tribute Towards him in musical rejoicing
He is a master of madness Maybe in anarchy One who takes much of the blame For our odd and crazy behavior