Moon and I are in relationship. I am in love with her and she follows me wherever I go and especially when I am in the car and someone else is driving and I look out and find her amid the stars. She sails along beside my window, keeping up.

She smiles at me in Diana’s bow, bathes me when she is Full, and asks me what I am doing up so late as to see her in the night sky as a Crone. She used to flow from me, leaving my body on sticky red and heightened everything, but now she has decided to hang around.  I believe this is her way of letting me know she loves me even more as time goes on. Loves me so much she can’t leave me. I hold her inside, feeling her love.

  

Moon and I have been friends for a very long time. We know one another well. She remembers the day I was born and I remember the first time I noticed I could sometimes see her during the day. She watched over me as I grew and I looked upon her buttery beauty in Autumn, her icy stare in Winter, her milky face in Spring and her bright spotlight in Summer. 

I walk her luminous path. Moonlight shows me exactly where to go so I needn’t be unsure. The way always beckons. Sometimes it narrows and I must watch my step. Sometimes it is so broad, it encompasses all I see. Touched by moonglow, my hair looks more silver than it is, my skin like the fairies have kissed it. I chase mystery. I believe magick. I marvel at beauty once hidden in the harsh light of the sun.

Moon and I make great dancing partners. But she always leads. That’s okay. She is one of the few I am so enamored of that I will happily follow. Sometimes the dance is pure romance and I swoon. Sometimes the steps are tricky and fast and I must practice. Often we dance to music only we can hear.

I tell everyone I know about her. Can’t keep quiet. Her rhythms are too seductive, too wise, too important to keep to myself. I was one of those women they called Lunatic dancing in her light. I was one of those women who refused the call to worship the sun and stole away at night to do its opposite. I was one of those women who honored her bodies’ ebb and flow as a holy thing. I am still.

When I die, I want to float up there to be closer. Dance over to the other side and check it out. Dive into her craters and snuggle in for the ride. Get drunk on her milkshake and tell jokes that make her laugh so hard, she can barely catch her breath. And those still on the earth will perceive it as the music of the spheres.