Crescent Moon

Ever sat and talked with the moon
just long enough for your
conscious mind to slip away
into dream land?

I would say to the crescent moon
as it rocks me to a serene sleep,
that all that is meant to be good in the world
will be good and all that is meant to go wrong
has the possibility to change.

I would lay in the arc and tell the moon that
though love is blind, all those who are willing to
open their hearts for the smallest chance of love, will see.
I make love not war, I would tell the patient moon,
unless my heart guided me to do so.

There is one reason for life: to love, and be loved,
and those restless souls that are stuck between
life and afterlife never new a true love.
One true love.

I found mine, I would boldly tell the moon.
I found mine and he sleeps under the same stars
that I gaze at each night, and you also moon,
he sleeps under you and maybe is
gazing at this very instant as I lie with you.

Does he talk with you as well, moon?
Does he confess his troubled mind as I do?
The moon does not respond,
rather it calls shooting stars to blanket me
n star dust and sends me to my dreams.

Goodnight moon.

*this was never a poem so the lines don't really make sense...*