They say that the moon can paint a picture of a tomorrow to find,
tinted with feelings and impressions that make rationality blind.
Inherited desire and invisible habits it contains,
challenges and temptations for all it refrains.
When sculpting the shape of precious destiny,
and weaving the forces of dark and light in unity.
Unfolding within the secrets of mystery of all,
new claims of hope is needed for the crystal ball.
Illuminations of expressions is the final ingredient,
for the midnight ocean fare convenient.
The moon then will rain out its silver sphere,
irresistible light beam rendezvous for the nightmare.
Waking or asleep in this subtle mortal sleep deep dream,
flowing in this astral stream, all must deem.
That dream where one can look before and after,
and decides what is not with a laughter.
Making sense out of wondrous madness,
when the queen of night smiles at you with gladness.
For in many eclipses no light will flow,
then every illumination has the sense to grow.
Motions are the sacred force as far space can reach,
the catalyst that triggers the stars in poetic speech.