nacre grace

dear … moonlight keeper of the wan, wondrous, midnight mists might I beg of you a kindness? I know you hide there, safe from the needling stars in a shroud of black brume but could you wink your way thru … momentarily? may I, for a bit of time, be the ripples of water that you shimmer on, or perhaps the smooth percale of sheets, painted cornflower by you and still warm from passion? might you allow me the grace to be a frozen feather of Christmas snow, glinting with your pastel magic, or perhaps the catkin skin of a lover, softly striped by your beams thru louvered windows? oh, could you see your way, dear Luna, to let me be the wing of a swan lit by your blue in its late-night journey south or perhaps a desolate mountain peak aglow with your naked majesty, piercing the heavens? or might I be - for an instant, just, a ragged ocean shore broken by a storm, and wrapped in a cloak of your baby blue lustre … would it be so awful to let a poor fool like me know the soft sweetness of your tender light? oh I beg of you, the favor if only an instant … for I am a cold chasm with a heart as dark as the abyss’ belly - lost in a wood of weariness and a lifetime nigh of my dreams … but you, my moon hold such a soul’s redemption as mine if you could but spare one brief, beryl, kind and cottony … kiss.