My super-moon

My super-moon drifted away to sleep behind rain-clouds ,while another danced away blues on small screen. Big bright orb was ghost on another sky.

My purest view had to be near a guess in a cloud, a dastardly destroyer of men in folded prayers on snow hills.

A moon ghost became far from my truth with men and trees across its luminosity, ghosts of men and dark trees in a breeze violently disagreeing with its astral views.

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