The Moon - 18

The fool had wandered long and deep,

between a wakefulness and sleep.

The moon watched high from overhead

and spectres loomed as fool was led,

by beams of light to open sea

and through the gates of memory.

A wild place this where shadows wail,

the high priestess lifts up the veil,

and smiles as fool goes deeper still,

illusions and delusions fill,

and spill from edges of the mind

that here are charted, clues to find.

Where madness laughs with pointed teeth,

and artists meet on haunted heath,

with chattering spirits wise and well,

as well as those come hot from hell.

And who can tell these two apart?

They both live in a single heart

and mind, to spar and spear and fold, 

as gods sprint by with swords of gold.

 

Only moon knows well this Deep,

these secrets hers alone to keep. 

She knows when fool is wide awake.

She knows when fool is fast asleep.

Find her and align with her, you can trust her well.

For she, in love with wanderers lost, 

will cast the perfect spell.