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I touched the moon last night;a golden glow beyond my grasp.Eons before me it rested there.It will remain when I am dust.My hand now glows from the embrace.Voices echo through nights past,and with the glow, caress my face.My finger faints from what will last.Alone I am; alone secure;the moon will last when I am gone.A Master set it in its_ place,to move the tide, refresh the dawn.Unnumbered eyes have felt its rest;have looked upon reflected light.My heart is moved away from pain;I touched the moon last night.
Craig Froman An Owl on the Moon: A Journal from the Edge of Darkness
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I touched the moon last night;a golden glow beyond my grasp.Eons before me it rested there.It will remain when I am dust.My hand now glows from the embrace.Voices echo through nights past,and with the glow, caress my face.My finger faints from what will last.Alone I am; alone secure;the moon will last when I am gone.A Master set it in its_ place,to move the tide, refresh the dawn.Unnumbered eyes have felt its rest;have looked upon reflected light.My heart is moved away from pain;I touched the moon last night.
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Craig Froman

An Owl on the Moon: A Journal from the Edge of Darkness

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Mademoiselle De Lafontaine _ in right of her father, who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical and something of a mystic _ now declared that when the moon shone with a light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous people; it had marvelous physical influences connected with life. Mademoiselle related that here cousin, who was mate of a merchant ship, having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his face full in the light of the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium.

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This thing we have, it hurts, he continued. But the pain is almost sweet because it means YOU happened. We happened. And I can't regret that, no matter how little or how long I get to tag along with you and pretend that I don't hate having people recognize me or take pictures or having people whisper about my record--" Your record?"" My criminal record, Bonnie, Nothing platinum there. I'm an ex-con, and starting over and building a new life where I can put it behind me, I'm building a new life where it will never be behind me, and for you, its worth it. It's easy math.

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