That Kind Of Moon

For days
it reveals more
expanding until
the cycle is complete
bathing the night
in celestial light

Unseen energies
traveling in oxygen
and blood;
a natural aphrodisiac
overtaking
each calculated instinct

You are climbing the walls,
pacing the room
unable to cool the growing heat
driving the need
to bury yourself
inside another

Some suggest it to be only a myth,
an explanation to excuse
detailed deviant desires
that lurk in the longing
for a lover,
an anonymous friend

Bewitched by the bosom,
and branded by boredom
is it only a witness
to the windy wail
of revolving revisions,
or does the glow
cast a coercive spell
dusting us
in the daring directive
to dine and delight?