Tonight awake, the silent
call of full moon tides floods
every sense, stirred to attention,
blood ragings pulse
through waking dreams.
I am a hurricane.
I am a meadow breeze.
I breathe the mountains
where you make your bed, taste the salt
of full moon tears and let
my shadow rest upon you in the moonlight.
The tides flow full
I cannot find the edges of the ebb.
So many reasons not to follow
this insistent longing, but none
tonight that make any
sense at all.
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