Ode

Using the mind without the heart, it could take several lifetimes to understand her simplicity. From her we learn devotion to the things that make us more human. We learn selflessness. She gives. Like art, she changes us.

We bask in the warm light that surrounds her and bend to her soft vital power. She whirls tender and furious, fueled by a small piece of Hell itself that has always been there and has always hurt.

Men pursue her in search of erotic delights and well-cooked meals -- tender flesh and fresh vegetables. She's dangerous to them, and she senses that. Her inner wildness fuels a man's insecurity. Failure to dominate her crystallizes inadequacies and lights his long fuse of self-doubt. She can forestall the explosion, but she can be capricious.

Even at 4:55 A.M., even before she brushes her teeth, she adds to the beauty of the world. It's in how keenly she feels. It's in how she makes us feel. As people turn toward her they become more themselves.

Without her, we are the new moon: heavy and without light, magic, or romance.
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The Other Sun

"...a dull, contracted circle yielding light so feebly spread, that not a shadow falls, chequering the ground--from rock, plant, tree or tower..."

This is from William Wordsworth's "A Night-Piece," describing, as you may have guessed, the moon. The moon melts inhibitions in cool heat and dissipates sickness in wonderful night world. The soul expresses its desire during the moonrise and the moonset and executes it under the moonshine. The new moon contemplates. The full moon acts.
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