The moon

A short walk along the beach reminded me of Robert Browning and his poem “Pan and Luna”.

Ha, Virgil? Tell the rest, you! “To the deep
Of his domain the wildwood, Pan forthwith
Called her, and so she followed”–in her sleep,
Surely?–“by no means spurning him.” The myth
Explain who may! Let all else go, I keep
–As of a ruin just a monolith–
Thus much, one verse of five words, each a boon:
Arcadia, night, a cloud, Pan, and the moon.

Moonlit at Wreck

I stared romancing Selene as did Pan on that fateful night. Alas I had not a fleece to bribe her nor she felt shy tonight of her naked demeanour. Ignoreth me, she flirted with the clouds and crept by the stars. The ocean lapped my fallen emotion among its waves and restless I tried to capture her in a cage. Far away at the horizon, the city lights flickered off and the night was lost…but not all, my reflections still remained diffusing among hers endless in the cool placid waters.


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