i caught
the midnight sky
winking at me
as i walked
out the front door;
its clouded lid
falling upon
that bright
but waning eye
for the briefest
of moments

it is hard
to know
if this was
a gesture
   of endorsement
a translunary "attaboy"
   of encouragement
to keep walking
this path
less travelled
or an accusatory
reassurance
despite
   the ambivalence
that my secrets
would be kept
by this
ever-watchful
stellar companion

Well, well! These numbers,
don’t they tell quite an interesting story:
Aligning ever so perceptually, perpetually
perfectly with our half-full moon.

We are absorbing only
what we truly are
and honoring release
of all that is not.

The first full moon
of this Master Builder Year
of the Tigress Enchantress
capturing our hearts
and filling us up
to flood our programmed minds
with proof that we are free.

The drowning turns to flames
as quickly as flames
turn to vapor and disappear
into our One True Being’s
Eternal Grace. Smile,

even Laugh Out Loud
at this joyful purge
and holy release.
We are all one heart in love.

The sky is purple black;
brilliant, tiny pinpricks of light scattered across.

How is it I feel
the rays of the Sun at my back?

I paint my Moon a deep burnt umber
to match my deeper mood.

She is my bright, lone star; and,
I expose all the darkest woes
for her to see.

She is the beginning and the end.
She takes everything.
What can be left
after the Sun returns
from his hiatus?

How will it be after sharing
such secret intimacies
after so many years?
How can one turn back
from a thing so dear?

In the umbra of my darkness
I open to let you take
what can’t reflect
your pure illumined face.

I cast this umber shadow
as a token of my surrender
to your loving Grace.

A sensitive
little white
flower,
opens
her
petals
by the
opening
of lunar
light,
seeking
to heal
others
as they
lie in their
dreams, she
whispers
to them
within
their
hearts,
“hear 
these
words, 
and 
allow 
me 
to take 
care 
of you, 
allow my 
petals to 
heal your 
wounds, 
I will gently 
touch your 
tears and 
dissolve 
them 
within 
my own
heart”
the soft
wind
tousles
her, the
painted
one
touched
upon the
flowers
heart,
“tell
me the
secret
to flight”
the fragile
one asked,
it flew
again
into the
nightly
hour,
she felt
a dew,
she
looked
up, it
was the
florist,
who
sung
to her,
“the
secret
is love,
where
it is,
there
is flight”

The moon forgets the power she holds with or without the sun.

The storms she brings with the tides always in her favor.

Shifting and going as she fades into her many faces.

The power she lends to every miserable woman.

Trying to start a new, Learning their worth.

She keeps forgetting that she doesn't need the sun to shine.

That she is all that she needs to become divine.

She always forgets.

A full rotation.
Another year cycles by marking your arrival,
You entered this world with uncertainty and lived it gracefully,
You had mishaps along the way that formed you into the being you are today,
Further you propel into the vast,
Beaming with wisdom more than the year last,
Blossom forevermore on your birthday oh soul,
You are a speck of the divine,
A true marvel to witness.

You enchanted the moon, didn't you?

Or bribed her?  Maybe you promised her a star or two?

She hunts me with Orion's bow, pacing behind shadowed cloud,

My celestial stalker ridin' low, warily wrapped in misty shroud.

She whispers stark and yet, soft as a breeze on an April afternoon,

Press on now, my pet.  You've done so well, we'll sleep again soon,

But we've a fortnight to go if we're to come full circle by month's end.

So many dreams still to sow... To reap those lupine howls once again.

She waxes and I wane, she mystifies with madness then soothes me sane.

Serenity to insanity, delirious depravity to moon-magicked majesty,

A cosmic clockwork cycle muddling my mind with lunar gravity.

She pushes me to righteous malice and pulls me to solstice solace,

She masters tides in her caprice, what hope has a malcontent apprentice?

One night the wind walked
amid the silvery clouds
singing in choir with the stars
swaying the trees and marking
the love's path in the lunar gardens.

Transparent terrestrial plains
called the mountains to sing
while the snow slid larghetto
to trace the glazing route with love's
cabalistic path till the lunar gardens.