In Walked the Moon

in walked the moon

first you were a face

a rapture of skin and bone

artful and artless

cast in luminescent glow

then you were a smile

a blissful contemplation

of the innocence in whimsy

and the joy in guileless play

when you told me your name

the mystery unfurled

you revealed yourself a jester

on a journey of your own

you became a muse

a spirit to inspire

mystic dancer poised on tiptoe

between wax and wane

 

one day you’ll be a memory

your stars no more aligned with mine

but each night you’ll be with me

for you have become the moon

 

March 1, 2011

© Ruth R.Greig

I believe in what I call “light beings”—spirits so pure and powerful in their natural state that they shine bright white. I even know a few. Ter is one. Nicole is another. The only other one I’ve met inspired this poem, and since today is his birthday, I thought I’d share it.

He didn’t stay long, but his brief presence in my life initiated such dramatic change that I can’t help but be grateful for him. In his purest form, he’s a light being. He is also mortal and following his own path. He proved to me that the orbits of two vastly different worlds can occasionally cross, and when they do, magic happens. He taught me the value of play (and how sad is it that I needed teaching??) He introduced me to the music of Matthew Schoening and reintroduced me to my muse. He was mysterious and sweet and lovely and frustrating and funny and delightful and scary smart about many things. He dropped in and out so fast that he might never have happened except that I remember him whenever I see the moon.

Happy birthday, Joelique.

 

With love,