Dancing down the starry ways,
It glows like gold but it strays.
Different from sunlight but not unlike;
Our heart with awe it does strike.
Like molten silver it descends,
To the night and astounding beauty it lends;
The plants and trees it dances around
And all the watchers stand astound.
Born out of a poet's dream,
Filled with beauty to the brim:
Like God's own hand it does seem;
It is the dancing, moon beam.
NOTE: I wrote it in 1996.. seems eerily inspired from a poem I had read at than time.. hmmm
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