Drinking the Tears of the Moon

Each night I collect tears that fall from the moon

through

my sleeping mind

catching them in a goblet of flickering dreams

to drink when I awake,

illuminating,

with unearthly silver reflection,

the shadows

in forgotten corners

where the dreams tell stories

with their dancing forms

the way the bees give each other directions

to fields of pollen-rich blossoms

using the language of another way of thinking.