Divining the Present

I am not afraid of the moon, as it comes down
to hold my face in its encompassing gaze,
its light soaking my skin like a warm bath
of star parts and cosmic cremation.
I am not afraid of the moon when its crimson
blush rouses the hemispheres
and powders every rock and sea.
I see the full moon set upon mountains
like a seers orb, divining the present
splendor of gold washed sky
punctuated by immortal stars.
When everything else is gone, I can trust
its luminosity, every waxing, waning curve
my companion even as it is chased away
night after night, it returns to me.