Born under December’s dark moon the mysteries I hold tight.
As the illusions shatter pale moon you are my light.
You’ve always shown me when to give and when to fight
By moon magic something new to me I pray you bring.
Something a little wild something free
and your praises I sing.
An owl swoops, sings and glides away brisk on silent wing
You rise in still perfection, but soft, pale moon whisper to me,
And I’ll tell you my secrets with mirth and glee.
You are guardian of the wild things beautiful and free.
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