child of the night

I am a daughter of the night.
A soul in the abyss.
Birthed in the mists of crepescule.
My name, written in tears.

How can I write of the sun?
The sun fails to find me...
And the satellite in the dark sky
embraces me with such delight!

(January 26, 2005 ; 07:01:27pm)

Mooning

"Outside the barred window, the sky was thick with stars, and the moon, in its first quarter, was rising behind the mountains. Poets loved the full moon; they wrote thousands of poems about it, but it was the new moon that Veronika loved best because there was still room for it to grow, to expand, to fill the whole of its surface with light before its inevitable decline."

- Paulo Coelho
Veronika Decides to Die

I love the moon when it is round and big; like an eye staring straight at my soul. It fills me with its soft intoxicating light as it caresses my skin. Then it would blink, coy in it's half shrouded face. It flirts with its cheshire smile- then disappearing that I might yearn.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Your mystery, dearest, it calls to me...
Listen...
I am in search for you too.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War

I just finished reading the second Book of Abarat.
The book, in all its simplicity, echoes much of life's complexities.
It is a must read!

I found this piece at the end of the book and it so moved me.
The words in this poem gripped my heart and captured my very soul ...

Do this for me:
Find me a moon
made of longing.
Then cut it silver thin,
and having cut it,
hang it high
above my beloved's house,
so that he may look up
tonight
and see it,
and seeing it, sigh for me
as I sigh for him,
moon or no moon.


~ Christopher Carrion
Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War