It’s subtle. It cultivates mystery. I shiver. I brush the hair from my eyes exposed to October’s night air.
A thousand crimson leaves applaud my presence. I know I should be sleeping, but I surrender to this middle-of-the-night moonlit high instead.
Like a ghost I slip. Isolate starlight in my skin. Glimpse my moon shadow on the earth. I want to see this. Floating. Ethereal. Eyes closed.
The scents of the night intoxicate: rustling pines, damask rose, daphne. The smell of burning oak like whiskey. I refill my well.
Under the night sky I feel complete. I feel undone. I feel found. I feel lost — if only for a little while. And I want to go higher still.
Just for tonight.
Enjoying the part about enjoying the journey… or whatever.
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