Often I'm Like Some Noisy Raccoon

My spirit is in its solar eclipse It is fulfilling to think, not posture. This ascension isn't an apocalypse. It's a time my muse takes an adventure. And listens to all my seven chakras Sitting here with the goddess of the moon I enter into her poetic trance. And align within some mystic harpoon. Often I'm like some noisy racoon. But occasionally, she takes pity And my own words meet hers on honeymoon. Those moments feel now distinctly princely. For when they are fewer and far between I feel like a king bereft of his queen.