Reflect

Sometimes the moon is a delinquent
who rains down neon destiny,
illuminates new pages,
and the Goddess doesn't seem so far away,
nor Persephone in her time with Hades,
nor Lilith, nor Athena.
They all hold hands,
palms stretched to this season
in the sky.
Sometimes we on the ground are kin,
standing in the kingdom of glory,
breaking into new spaces
both dangerous and divine.
Sometimes I am present,
lit by that orbs buttery light.