Freestyle Writing: The Full Moon

Sometime, when it is full and bright and glowing, glance up towards the moon and reflect upon it. Note how where the thin strands fall against the dark trees and branches, they look dusted in silver magic. How, when a wolf or dog howls towards it, at least one person around you will shiver involuntarily. How, the world seems to be a different place, more magical, mysterious and ancient under the soft light of a full moon. When I see a full moon, hanging ripe and heavy in the sky, like the last fruit hanging on the vine, my mind fills with muddled thoughts and rambling ideas that trail off into oblivion as soon as they have been thought. I see a powerful beauty, wrapped by a dark black coat speckled carelessly with diamonds that glitter without light. I see a crystal ball glowing with secrets, nestled on an inky tablecloth with shards of glass sprinkled around. I see a milky eye looking down at the sleeping world in an ebony face that shines with the ebbing light of old age. I see a ripped and punctured cloth devoid of light except for the tears that shine white and clear through the dark, the largest glistening with an unearthly light that soothes the eyes. I see a gateway to heaven, a doorway to peace, an entrance to love and happiness and a window to the purest soul that breathes. I see something in the full moon looming in the night sky that no poet or songwriter could describe if they were given eternity to try.