Dark Moon Reverie

I tremble, fill and ache,

balloon out empty, placental,

too bruised, too delicate to be touched.

I yearn, pre-menstrual, tense;

I shudder, stretch, and swell...

to touch

Crescent's cool refreshing curve,

dawning hope:

My younger sister,

springtime budding.

My hot hand,

reaches for Her cool glass.

Her fine edge of wonder

lifts a child's chin,

lover's hand

cupping a breast for the first time,

hovering gently over pubic mystery,

arms of a priestess

raised to welcome Dark.

I arch in adoration, and Her touch

is consummation, delicate and clear

surcease for all My striving.

Crescent is benediction

and I rest at last,

and dream.

I dream that Full Moon radiance

steals over Me, a night of light.

Unknown, unknowable bathing light

consumes Me gently,

as the sea eats sand.

And I, the Active One, 

relax, ease, release...

and disappear.

This has happened before. 

I wake to Myself,

to My rich night of possibilities,

to feel the delicate fleeting print

of a farewell touch

outlining My endless sensual curves,

aura fading along My whirling contours

leaving behind electric tingling loss.

© Tamara Rasmussen 201