Sway of Luna

Frankly, my passion is the moon: mysterious, illuminated, magnetic. Elliptical eye over a slumbering orb permeates solace conversant as a womb. Once born, content in purpose, Luna begins her seductive dance; hypnotic. Ballet her movement, pirouette, fouette, ever graceful her develop and decline. Titillation, measured foreplay, gently stroking horripilations on the surface of my soul. Luna I surrender! Pleasured with beaming brilliance, in milky caress I come. Luna contends undisputed dominance over this solemn worshiper; who am I to oppugn? Her willing dog I howl. Though Luna is not faithful as I, whoring herself to all the world... I hold no flashlight, not a single flickering candle dare take her place, dare hold her name in vain. Luna's wrath (vigorous as the gods) a tempest which regularly blows her.... ..............................away Traceless, not a single glimmer of her brilliant, ravishing vessel remain. A sadistic game: to vacate this adorned altar for uterus darkness, but hers to play; moodily, monthly, Luna absconds. I am tearful and alone scouring a devoid sky with saline blurry eyes. Palpitating drums... my fluttered heartbeat amplifying the echo of tragedy, resound through those hollow nights. Luna ignores my pulse. Three nights I pray, grovel for forgiveness, pervading torment I beseech her on dirt stained knees. Until alas! a single tip of inveigle claw, one peeking crescent, steadily slicing back the veil of my emptiness. Luna reborn! Speechless, I, as she begins her temptress sway anew.