The moon is
The stark shimmering fingerprint
A goddess left – there is a hint
Of divinity in the eye
Of the velvety starry sky

The moon is
A jewel attached to the prow
Of the ship of mystic dreams
Glowing with fantastic phantasms
Traversing yawning morbid chasms.

The moon is
A casket containing my soul
That strange part of me which you stole
Long ago on a sacred night
When I gazed at you and your might.