MOONSILK

Me: Opalescent, Passion:ate, Symphonik,
Natur:al, Harmon:ik, Iridiscent, Elektrik,
Peace:ful, Com:passion:ate, Eccentrik,
Dream:er ...


Here. In dreams spun of silk. Dreams spun of moonsilk. Spun into black silk and red velvet the color of blood. The colors of love spilling crimson, cascades of meaning, like a sputtering geiser ejaculating out of the earth's womb, like watercolor seeping like slow death into these white sheets, kissing the sweetness breathe to breathe. Here. Here my Moon, my Moon she fades of me - abandoning me she does - to stumble blindly through dark velvet. She walks of the night in perfect sight: Fading she does, only to reappear, she does. Fading and returning; fading and returning, she does. Perpetually fading and returning, my Moon. My vision. My dreams. My rebirth out of death's womb. A mystery: She walks in blue like the deep ocean she cares for. My Eleusinian mystery unveiling an initiation of arcane truths. A Ritual. My Moon, a metaphor for this life itself: Searching for meaning we wander through dark caves, stumbling, falling, and should we reach our moira, our fate, we bask in her radiant light. My Moon, my Queen. She walks in beauty of the night. My Moon, my Queen, spinning silk out of dreams. Her throne resides in the wombs of the earth. A heartbeat murmurs below in subterrenean labyrinth and maze. Like Persephone's hand of fate, destined to walk in part through the valley of Hades, she is pure Parthenos. Beauty in the light, below the core stone cold. A Mistress of oracular wisdom she is, my  mistress  Moon.  My Moon, my Mother.  She walks in the beauty of her light.