Walking in the damp evening air,
Stillness surrounded me,
my eyes were drawn upwards,
And soon I was entranced
The moon hung low,
Not yet full, wan and waiting,
A few nights more until her beauty would be celebrated,
Patiently she occupied her rightful place
I stood mesmerised and was reminded,
There is power in that which is imperfect
That which is not whole can still command
She was incomplete, yet not unworthy
As I walked on, her light illuminated my path,
A queen in all phases
Assured of her strength,
Sometimes invisible, other times impossible to ignore.
She stirred me that night,
She who controls the very tide,
Moved to awaken a single wretched soul
I felt at one with her, peaceful in my seeking.
