The Moonlight drips down her frosty tears of emotion Pulling tide, pushing tide like a forlorn lover. Deep in a reverie, filled in with shades of the wind Decisions always have to be made whether to show her face in full or to show her shadowy slivers of seduction Pushing tide, pulling tide tears that will forever fall onto a barren earthscape of tundras and lava beds coral reefs wrapping around her ankle pulling her deeper into the memory she left behind pushing her unto the verge of bliss untold as her tears drip milky liquid onto the surface of the mountain.
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In the course of cleaning today, I found a scrap of paper covered front and back with this poem – dated 10.11.2002
This is one of those rare instances when I recognize where my inspiration was coming from, even from so long ago. I have long admired the work’s of Christopher Pike, especially his novel “The Season of Passage”. It’s a great science fiction/folklore story that is weaved together beautifully. And while my poem has nothing to do with his story, I remember thinking about the Moonlight as a person and this poured forth.