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The MOON is a woman

And doubters are fools

Those who cannot see HER quintessential femininity

Suffer from blindness of the soul.


The SUN is a man

Racing brashly across blue skies

Sulking behind clouds as HE gathers the strength to blaze forth HIS masculinity at first chance

In streams of dazzling gold.


The female MOON sheds pearlescent light gently upon HER daughters

As they love, conceive, suffer, give birth, and die

The male SUN brazenly illuminates HIS sons

As they mate, plant seed, rut again and again and die.


The female MOON is generous with HER soft beams

SHE embraces the men HER daughters adore

SHE caresses the man child with the woman child

SHE cherishes each word of passion spoken between HER daughters and their mates.

SHE dreams for both alike the ecstasy of love.


The male SUN, impatient for his own fulfillment, chases HER from the sky

Looks down on HIS sons and urges them on to their singular goals

Plow the woman, plant the seed, harvest the child

And be certain, sons, that your kind lives on.


The MOON is a woman

Even as SHE is banished to darkness by the SUN

SHE has love enough to look at HIM And feel for HIM the sweet desire HER daughters

--the swirling jewels, the stars--

feel for their own men

Who leave them wanting, starving, yearning.

SHE understands.

The MOON is a woman.


©1997-98-99, CS Hair