Moonsong

Moonsong

The moon is opening her mouth to sing.
She makes no sound, her song is made of light,
a song so lucid, cool, I feel it ring
in every cell, make me shine loud, sing bright.
Drunk on moonshine, I’m lunatic, pure mad.
The clear light of her singing fills my brain,
wells up inside my heart and makes me glad.
Its sweet intoxication drives me sane.
I’m in this moment, in this place, this time
but here and now I know I’m limitless.
The night’s a silver bell I feel it chime
illumination-song in emptiness.
Across a quarter-million miles of space
I smile back at my original face.

– Janaka Alan Spence.

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