The moon literally shines beams down on me as I sleep in my parents guest room. I wake up and find him winking at me. I grabbed my journal and penned this short poem a few nights ago.
Sleeping in a moonbeam
Moon sends down his borrowed light
translated from the blatant sun
to the gentle, luminous message of white light
breaking the darkness of all color.
I close my eyes
as he holds me in a beam of light
suspending me in my bed,
pouring the stuff of ancient stars into my heart and third eye.
I fairly twinkle in my renewing slumber
dreaming of endless possibilities,
feeling loved and lucky and grateful and free.