The Moon Ascends

In twilight's dance, as dusk turns to night,

The moon ascends, a shimmering light.

Its silvery glow casts a spell, a boon,

As whispers arise, the tales of moon soon.

Amidst the stars, it reigns supreme,

A celestial beauty, a luminescent dream.

In crescent, gibbous, or full bloom,

It weaves enchantment, tales of moon soon.

In ancient lore, its magic spun,

A symbol of love, of battles won.

A guide for sailors on stormy seas,

A guardian of night, a gentle breeze.

The poets sing its ethereal tune,

Romancing the night, under moon's swoon.

As shadows dance, and creatures croon,

The world surrenders to tales of moon soon.

Lovers share secrets under its gaze,

In moonlit gardens, their hearts ablaze.

The nightingale sings a tender tune,

As passion ignites, in tales of moon soon.

But, as it wanes, a melancholy art,

A reminder that all things must depart.

Yet, hope is born in the new moon's boon,

A promise of return, in tales of moon soon.

So, as it rises, in skies above,

Let us embrace the moon's pure love.

In its glow, find solace and commune,

With nature's wonder, in tales of moon soon.