The Moon is brazen," the Elder says
as he passes the pipe around
to naive, young braves.
"She will seduce you. She will
stare you down, and will send
her flirty thoughts to entice you.
The Moon is sensual, and she knows it.
She walks before you with mincing steps,
bats her eyes, fills the pages of her book
with poems of her lovers, tales of her suitors.
Will you follow after her? Will you be caught
in the golden fingers of her caress?
She will kiss you with the red lips
of her painted passion. She weaves
a web of gold and silken threads where
she will entangle you, hold on to you."
"Ah," he said, "She is bold, unafraid.
Naked with her desires. She is shameless.
Do not think that she is asleep. Stay awake.
Keep your eyes open, lock away those
impure thoughts of love. For before you
can blink your eyes, she captures your soul.
The Moon is brazen. She takes what she
wants. You cannot resist her. She will not
let you go. The Moon is without mercy.
Do not think that she will forget you.
She chants a pulsing song of her yearning.
Only the fool will say he can resist her. Only
the fool dances too close to a brazen Moon."
