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What Moon is this that saturates the ebon canvas of the light-painted starry sky? When do we see the golden rays of star-dust covering over the Earth and all of its sleeping denizens? Why must the Moon awaken the ashes of dreams lost in passion's dying fire and shake the dusty echoing chambers free of a shattered and fragmented heart? Where has the Moon hidden its precious gems while showering love's hope down upon weary sleepers? And what a Moon this is that causes our inner wolfing souls to howl and our hearts to bay at its gold-infused gifts? How spectacular is the fragile light of the moonbeams that shine down and bathe the night of fossilized vices in the radiating tremors of love's mysteries unearthed. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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