like drifting through a memory.
I remember the Moon.
She lives in my soul and stirs my heart like your feet stir the bottom of the Ocean floor as you shuffle through the waters of this life.
She keeps me awake, makes me question, and sparks the rumble of my howl.
Like any good lover, we’ve danced and pushed and pulled, played and frolicked, fought and fucked, sang in harmony and off tune.
I’m in love with her steadfast ways, consistent in her showing up, yet shifting in brightness- sometimes hiding in the shadows, lurking behind the clouds.
I remember the moon that night in Mexico, when I swam naked and felt the force of the Ocean as she enveloped my encumbered body.
I remember the Moon the night I couldn’t sleep, she was so full and luminescent- my whole being was shaken awake and all I could do was stare out my window over the silhouettes of the trees in awe and uncertainty and questioning.
I remember the Moon in her eyes, the night I told her I thought she was so beautiful.
I remember the moon, always. The way she leads me, tempts and teases, yet always present, always there when I wake from slumber.
