Every night when you are sleeping, the Moon Maiden descends to the earth. She bears a silver chalice, polished and bright. The shimmering maiden roams the earth, searching for forgotten dreams and buried memories.
Her eyes are sharp.
Before the Moon Maiden ascends to the upper realms, all of those misplaced hopes are gathered into her silver chalice.
She never overlooks a single one.
Sometimes a cruel gift…
true
I love the last section (not visible above), which reminds me of Toni Morrison’s ideas about memories and the way they become tangible, although not necessarily to the one who originally experienced an event/emotion. Teresa’s dew is temporarily in one form and soon to metamorphose into something different.
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