Litany Beneath The Full Moon🌕 Poem by WIN VENTURA

The moon ascends — a sovereign sphere,
Cloaked in argent fire, seething clear.
Each crater, a scripture… scarred, divine,
Echoes of epochs that outlast time.

She hangs not still — but vigilant, crowned,
Above the hush of hallowed ground.
Her light is not gentle — it interrogates,
Burns through masks, liberates fates.

I stood beneath her spectral gaze,
Barefoot on ruins of yesterday's maze.
The wind, a choir of forgotten hymns,
My pulse a drum to ancient limbs.

Whispers curled from the obsidian sea,
The stars bowed down in reverie.
A veil of longing stretched across skies —
Where truth wears no disguise.

Oh moon! You oracle, you crucible bright,
Wielding shadows within your light.
You do not heal — you reveal,
The ache we bury, the wounds that seal.

And still… I stand —
A silhouette stitched in silver and sand.
Begging not for love, nor fame nor boon —
Only to be understood, beneath this moon.

By: - WIN VENTURA