“Diana”

She wore her temptress veil last night…Diana, that fickle, ever-changing witch who drives me to such howling lunacy.  I swear she knows how showing me only half of that beaming face pulls me to her.  My imagination conjures images of a seducing smile only half hidden in shadow.

The romantic radiance she reveals illuminates my world and makes even the ugliness seem pure and clean.  The shadows of my life are softer, more promising than foreboding, like the cold gentleness of her touch.

Such a teasing huntress.  I know she is not mine alone.  I might see her every night and often catch a fleeting glimpse of her by day, but she is never mine to claim.  Others speak to me of her beauty…and sometimes of her cruelty…and I know the longing in long nights alone with only thoughts of her that gather like clouds and rush across my mind and heart.

I am not the only one who sings her songs or chases visions that wax and wane.  She pushes me to fantasy then leaves me to make it come to light.  Harsh reality is not her world although behind the veil, perhaps, she hides truth with her beauty.  The fullness of a dream is only found in its reality.

Again and again she finds me and goads me to my best self in her light, or hides my lesser goodness in her shadow.  But she is always there.

For I see the moon, and the moon sees me.

                                                                                                                       

Half Moon by David Rex (c)