Moonstone

Tightroping through the space called life

Once upon a blue moon, in April last year, I wrote this poem as an opening for a poetry collection which got abandoned later.

Things shifted, perspectives changed, and suddenly it lost its relevance.

Today, a year later, I excavated it — perhaps, because of all the moon talk as I watched Artemis II launch to the orbit and beyond, and then splash down into the Pacific Ocean nine days later.

The moon has been a running theme in my poetry through many years, just like the tides. Maybe the collection will get revived, but into something smaller, more concentrated and potent than the one I originally planned.

The time will tell.

Moonstone

Childhood memories of silver moonlight
Dispelling shadows creeping in the dark,
In mother’s softest voice, a lullaby,
A whisper telling me to never lose my spark.

For even though tightroping through the space —
Which we call life — is hard and monotone,
My heart will always brim with light and faith,
For it is chiseled from the finest moonstone.

— 11 Apr 2026

Text + Soul © Lana E. Taylor
Steal my breath, not my words.

ᚂᚐᚅᚐ ᚈᚐᚔᚂᚑᚏ

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