Awaits a reflective sanctuary in Venus

That star waits,floating upon a vespertine wash of sky.
Some call to her after the sun goes below the horizon.
Sometimes a memory of a loon that floats upon an evening lake,
somewhere in a child’s memory call to me.
This star awaits, a venus chiseled from dreams,
yet remains bright as a beacon passed on through generations.
This star, this orb which captures forever, light washes ashore
becoming brighter as the veil of day is pulled back in a slow motion wave.
For I know she awaits the fullness of tonight’s Moon.
Waiting to tide her with this earth, insert a lucid dream the sleep that makes us human.
This star awaits, making my soul send a plea.
This star makes me sense the pull of earthly memories and wish an escape,
a place where the windows of paradise are seen in the eyes of another,
another whom calls the moon up just by riding earth.
Sometimes a memory of a Loon,
some times a though of a cloud,
sometimes a braided brush paints an empty thought
like a white canvass upon a vespertine evening.

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