The Moon is a great actor
He plays many roles
A skilled magician
He can make himself disappear
He can be round and fat
Like he swallowed a cosmic balloon
Or so discrete--crescent shaped as a pastry
An angel seated upon his lap, lazily lounging in the night sky
He can be faint like a ghost
Filmy and smoky, most mysterious
Among the wispy clouds
Or as a big brother to the stars
He is an inspiration
A glorious night light
To awakened dreamers
And lovers gazing the heavens
He becomes a teacher
To various artists
Painters, poets and such
Immortalized in print, canvas and stone
He is an orchestra leader
To the howling wolves, banding in song
An icon of beauty to the human tribute
Towards him in musical rejoicing
He is a master of madness
Maybe in anarchy
One who takes much of the blame
For our odd and crazy behavior
