Fair Faced Moon

Dark stillness surrounds me
another blanket wrapping me in peaceful warmth,
holds me suspended in the cocoon of pre-waking.
It is that ever-sweet moment when consciousness knows not yet
that the earth has turned to embrace the dawning of the sun.
The moon's fair face is cleft in twain by an oak silhouette
thrust darkly from the black of earth.
Two silver bands of light lay brightly across my bed,
Argent light is cast equally around this stark dark line
Twin half-orbs piercing the cold morning with
angel feather softness.
I can see no difference on each side of that oaken split,
moonlight qualities remain
Silver. White. Pure light.
Would a heart do that if cleft in twain?
Would it shine brightly in two places and yet remain whole beyond this illusion?
Dark stillness surrounds me
But the silver dualism of the fair-faced moon taunts me with her appearance.