we are receding
we are moving inward
to prepare for
another rebirth we are
absorbing all
we have brought forth
in abundant harvest
with the fullness
of our moon light
we are strengthening
we are gathering
all unto us
we are resting
within our Self

Do you, too, like to stare at the moon,
chandeliers and *** lights?
when your eyes feel
like they belong to a sculpture
stuck in place, tunnel vision
Do you, too, make moonlight out of street lamps,
and use dreams to feed the craving
of meaningful existence?

in a movie i loved as a kid,
the moon was seen as a sort of deity.
the man in the moon told people
who they were and what their destiny was.

of course that movie was fictional
and the characters were fake
and so was the man in the moon.

no one can tell me what my destiny is
no one can tell me who i am
or who i am going to be

in a movie i loved as a kid,
my love for the moon was born.
and still when i look up at it
i feel calm

still uncertain, still searching
but i know i don't have to do it alone
because there may not be a man in the moon
but nature will always be there
for me

You will see the light of the star you always adored at night.
One day, the moon will serve as your savior from drowning in the darkness of your own past.
And these lights will then guide you into taking the right path.

In the night I wake up 'cos
the moon's shining on my face
I see it with closed eyes
as it glides along with grace.

I move my head to dodge the glare
and try once more to fall asleep
but now I toss and turn
counting far too many sheep.

At last I drift off into slumberland
the big yellow globe has passed
over to the other window
through which it hits me in full blast.

Now I'm beside myself with rage
even feel the urge to curse
then finally it comforts me
this moon has no reverse.

i ripple
with each touch
from your fingertips
in constant motions
that glide
hover against my skin
i tremble before you
goosebumps litter my flesh
and yet you say
you're not a god
but your eyes tell me otherwise
each pupil holds the sun and the moon
in warm pools
and with each flutter from your downcast lashes
paints my waters in glints of gold.

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, happy day:}


a born man
is a free man
yet somehow
is living in slavery on a timed boiling pan
is a deaf slave to a throne of what can't do and what can
is a blind king on his throne to the people's command
is a mute reigning with silence to speak up to his land
is a ******* to stop chaos with one stand
is living in the darkest poles denying the sun's shake of hand
and with all that he is still a free man

                                                                ­     ------ravenfeels

I'm the moon
who's formed from debris.
without light of the sun,
I'm just a dark permanent natural satellite,
who give no light to people at night.