Rhys
the once and future
- Joined
- Dec 14, 2001
- Posts
- 33,020
There's a full moon over Birmingham tonight. Such splendor is she this lunar maiden. She comes bright and gravid, achingly full of light and wonder. Her lover, the eternal ocean, reflecting her brilliance, dissolving into dark caves where ancients inact rituals to her fecundity. Sometimes she is shadow, covering her face with her cloudy veils aching with mystery. They say its lunar madness, this propensity to wax eloquently for a thousand words on the moon and her likenesses. I say its pure fancy, inspired by a muse of editoral proportion with a voice like pure alabama honey. She's a southern girl and she's got a way with her words and she shows it. I am stunned by the barrage of questions but I know it less to be an interrogation and more dynamic curiousity. So, this lady moon captures my imagination with her drawl and her cigarettes. Direct she is, pointed in her comments, illuminating the darkest passages with her laser vision and acerbic wit. Sometimes, she is so cold, the pale shadow of her compassion withering the last leaves of the harvest. Her frosty gaze chills the darkest of hearts and spills unbidden across the blue white snowfields, and in frozen twilight she twinkles like her heaven fire friends.
Tonight her pale cheeks grace my computer screen. Perhaps its not a full moon, but only a half moon, or maybe a three quarters moon and occluded hip. No matter, I am entranced anyway. Her spectral shanks dance madly amongest the other bits and bytes of binary that pixilate and recombine here before my wondering eyes...
(266 and counting...)
Tonight her pale cheeks grace my computer screen. Perhaps its not a full moon, but only a half moon, or maybe a three quarters moon and occluded hip. No matter, I am entranced anyway. Her spectral shanks dance madly amongest the other bits and bytes of binary that pixilate and recombine here before my wondering eyes...
(266 and counting...)
