MOON 🌕

Under the cloak of midnight's shroud, The moon ascends, both pale and proud. A silver phantom, veiled in mist, The lover's touch, the night's cold kiss. She hangs above in silent grace, A watchful eye, an ancient face. With gaze that spans the ocean wide, And secrets lost in ebbing tide. They say she guards forgotten lore, Of gods who danced on starlit shore. Of whispered spells in silvered streams, And boundless lands within our dreams. Her light is soft, yet sharp as blades, Carving shadows from the glades. A wraith that stirs in twilight’s breath, She weaves the line 'tween life and death. So let her guide the wanderer’s path, Through haunted woods and waters’ wrath. For in her glow, we glimpse the seam, Where myth and memory merge in dream.