The Moon is a sacred thing

Stalking and

Watching as we sleep or dream among the

Infinite amount of never ending

Shadows

We hide and

Escape

Whenever we can from the Moon only

Seeing it again and again another night, but only

Stealing

A fresh glimpse

Upon its shoulders

Then we dance to the fussy music that blooms from nowhere

Setting us from our

cocoons to end the

Hibernation that kept us locked in, and we see the

Howling of a new stage,

A stage where the bushy, smoky, wolves control, and

The wind screech's with it,

The nocturnals roam around, and

The hoofed sea gains ground, screaming to go to the Moon,

Getting closer, but the grim moon never notices

The Moon’s holes ache with vengeance,

So it tries to pull Earth, angered, thinking the rocks were hurled

From there,

The dents only come back, and if you stole a glimpse it would look like they came

From Earth, the biggest rock to live.