Eight moons encircled us in the night sky above
As I stood in the heart of a familiar forest.
Every pearl slowly revealed herself after the last,
Clear yet veiled by a familiar mystic design.
The radiance of a boiling star passed as she spoke,
“true wisdom lies beneath the illusion of distinctions”.
We awoke in the luminous shade of Crescent street,
I could not find the moon for she became me.
From my newest series She Dreamed of Eight Moons (Purchase prints here)
