A cool and close mist
Hangs over the highland shrubs and trees
Wild and tall grasses bend heavy
Laden with the chill dew
of a perpetually hidden dawn
10 lifetimes of experiences
Have I gathered since I entered here
I feel it was but a few hours ago
Though I have not seen the sun
Nor has the darkness of night
Yet begun to creep into these woods
Maybe from a dream or perhaps
I passed it earlier this strange house
A ***** place with slanted roof and chimney
Sticking out of the earth in such a way
That it appeared to be a natural growth
I feel as though it is so very familiar
Though I cannot say why
Or why no matter the direction I turn
Or for how long I walk
I come unto its doorstep again and again
In my mind it has replaced my own home
If ever I did have another
And whoever might have been waiting there
I have long since forgotten
Yet when I reach this house
Time and time again
I cannot muster the courage to reach out
To take hold of the handle and turn it
To enter in to that abode
And here I come again
I see it emerge out of the gentle fog
Comfortably nestled on a hillside
I stand for a moment at the gate
The walk through it and a long a path
Interspersed with a step or two here and there
As it turned inwards and outwards
Ascending the hill into the homes entrance
In a moment I stood at the door yet again
Hand half outstretched towards the ****
I placed my hand upon
Feeling the cool of brass
Yet the warmth of something else
Something half remembered from youth
From years long since entwined with dreams
I turned the **** gently
Not yet feeling the click of the lock
I felt a fresh wind at my back
And I rather spontaneously
Wrenched my hand and wrist
All the way to the right
I could feel the weight I’ll the door
Unhindered by any lock or stop
And I pushed through the humble
Yet mighty wooden thing open
And was greeted by a deepening night
Full of countless radiant stars.

Would you rather be the sun or the moon? Before you answer, let's recap what they do. It's been said that "with great power comes great responsibility." This just so happens to describe the sun perfectly. It provides plants and people with life and energy. But too much can make your savior your enemy. The moon is a security guard. It keeps things running, and it can be dangerous to people who work on the water if it's not out, but it can relax and enjoy when people say "it's stunning." In the end, I guess the question is, do you want to be admired for your power or your beauty?

Life has those tearful Moments,
When U need a Shoulder to cry on.
U find there's no one around U
and your Heart ends sighing on.
Life has those empty Moments,
that keeps eating on U.
U see the World Colourless,
and U end up feeling Blue.
Life has those silent Moments,
When U need someone to talk,
But there's hardly anyone around,
So U end up taking a walk.
Life has those scary moments,
When U feel, U are not good enough.
U go around tipping your Hat,
but still that's not enough.
Life has its beautiful Moments,
When at Night, U stare up at the sky.
U Wait for the Moon to show up
So U can wave it good-bye.

distracted yet again by
the fullest of moons
on an unexceptional night
blown out of proportion
by undue reverence
and misplaced relevance
looming larger than it seems
nature should allow
a false sense of light
marred by hues
of orange and red
forced upon it by
this unseasonably late
summer's twilight
there are those who
will assign meaning to
this sight and to any
signs thus associated
guided by the symbolic
grounded in the scientific
somehow the truest
of explanations are overlooked
the simple will always
inexplicably
be far less appealing
than the convoluted

Before the stormy night they stand
The empty buildings high and grand
Windows black and diamond plated
The stars about their glassy faces

Monoliths and moonlight kissed
All tightly packed against the winds
Freezing stone and white as bone
Alight along the rainy roads

And further still the swirling hills
Receive the heavens overhead
Some mighty tryst, an inky rush
From here I watch them touch

do you hear that voice, my dear.
would you listen to the moon sing.
can you understand its words.
oh dear if you don't,
you just stare right into my eyes
and you'll know—the enchantment
of a confession; the reflection
you see in these eyes,
is its muse.