Not the silvery beam of the waning Moon
I seek the golden thread of the majestic Sun
To weave my arras of love
Luna enchants, romances the psyche
He is the muse, the poetry, the light
He is the desire of a loving heart
But he changes, slowly
Sometimes seducing the crescent lover
Sometimes the orb lover…
I may love all his forms
But the night he abandons the sky
Who’d hold me when I cry?
Eyes look down in reverence
The sky brightens with his presence
The reason a bard believes in eternity,
A poet believes in vitality,
The Sun smiles, quietly nourishing the Earth
Keeping the promise of togetherness
If I cry on nights without the luna above
He'll keep me warm with his gentle embrace
And help me weave my arras of love.
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