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.

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