Lately I've been engaged by the moon and the indigo of the night sky. Moon shadows hold my gaze in their gentleness - the antithesis of sunburnt afternoons. The coolness of the air fills lungs longing for relief from daytime's glaring heat and crickets sing songs of praise. Meditation comes easy in these moments. My thoughts stop stumbling over themselves and stand still. The need to do fades into the night space replaced by the need to be. I see my own shadow cast from lunar light, and in it's hazy outline, I find myself.
Luncacy is defined as intermittent insanity once believed to be related to phases of the moon. Perhaps it is instead a moment of perfect clarity. In these moments, the lunatic finds his truth.
Bathed in indigo silence and moonlight - I am sane.
Glorious moonlight
bathed in your glow I glimmer
Irridescent me
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