The moon was full. The night followed the moon.

image courtesy of Everything PR

As the stars twinkled and faded, sparkled and shone they were completely unaware of the world happening below. The moon had no concept of deer, bears, dancers and posers. The stars had no concept of cruelty, of kindness. They only shone, not caring who their light affected, just shining their light on those around. But that night, there were those that moved that worshipped and loved the moon. There were those that stood naked under its light and those that kissed, winked and bowed.

Moondancing

L and J
There was a woman with roses on her belly. Her hair made friends with the wind, had been cut to be tamed, but there was not taming the wildness within. His hair was flecked with weather, salt from the ocean, black from the night. His clothing hid his strength, his desire to move among the rocks. “You look like a butterfly,” he told her. She moved like a butterfly, feeling, exploring the space around her, until she found her pose, her place in the room. That was easy because she had already found her place in his heart.

BJ:
Her figure curved, swooshed. Her manner was practical, holding out on the woman within, the woman who loved the twinkle in a man’s eye, an innocent flirt. She wrapped beads around her waist and shook them at no one in particular, and then she was done here, but her night was just beginning.

J:
There were props to wrap around her body, to compliment her form. She had moved this way before, graphite had immortalized her. Her body might now be between the pages of a notebook, or hanging on a wall. Her body might be a memory for one and a fantasy for another. She was no stranger to nudity, to stillness. She was no stranger to an audience, but that was only for a moment. That had its place as all things had their place. In life, she knew what artists wanted, what lovers wanted. She could please the world, but most important was being able to please herself.

K:
Think sexy, her friend said. I don’t think sexy, she responded, but she was. She was the girl next door, unaware of her beauty. Her body followed her mind, while the voice of her body struggled to be heard. There was a shyness that was proper. There were proper things to do, but the things she wanted to do, she sometimes pushed aside. And then, she found it. She found the way she could be. Under the moon anything could be and for a moment, she stood alone, lit by the night and nothing else existed.

L:
It was like jumping off a cliff, afraid to dive, gulping the brandy. She could, she might, but she couldn’t. It was exposing herself, standing in front of people and being the center of attention. She was the only one who thought she didn’t deserve it.

W:
Show them the boobs, she said. I need a cross, she said. Time to kick it up. Her sexuality disappeared into darkness and her sensuality appeared. There were spirits in her voice and a spark in her soul. She had no fears of being, of standing in front of the world. She had no fears at all, it seemed. She liked to try new things and tonight, she might try things she would never forget.

J and P:
He had found what he was looking for and more. It was in a feather, a touch, a noose around his neck. He had searched and he had found – a life, a love. And as the feather landed on him again and again, as she tightened the noose around his neck, he smiled and laughed. Her voice joined his and their laugh became one, their moment joined and together the touch of a feather was able to touch so much more than skin.

L:
He was a boy. He was a curious boy who liked to touch and move and see. Moon dancing was a game. He could be anything, have anything. Ships sailed across his imagination, hair grew out of his head, wild and curly, and as his belly pushed outward, he suddenly became a little wild, he could create or destroy, but just as quickly, the moment was over and he was once again a boy, a curious boy.

S:
He was not blind, but he had been blind. He could have chosen to be anything in front of the camera, but he chose darkness. He chose a mask to disguise his face and let the creature within peek out. He wandered that night through streets, through mazes, and in his hand, in the hands that he held raw and naked to the world was an egg. The egg meant the world to him at that moment. The egg could be life, could be death, that egg could hatch creativity and it was up to him, cloaked in darkness to save the egg for whatever fate might behold it. For he, he was the master, he was the keeper of the night and people moved at his will. Whether the maze had an end or a beginning was of no significance to him.

T:
He wanted to be a dirty rotten scoundrel. He admitted it himself, he did, but he was more than that. He was ambitious, he had drive. He had youth. The world was unraveling before him, sharing its mysteries. He had morals, he had beliefs, he had youth. Before the moon, he could have been a movie star, he could have been sitting at a bar, sipping a martini, talking to models. He could have been….but he was here and all he had to decide was where he was going next.

C and A:
There was a woman with a cross and a child with a butterfly. The child sat on the lap of the woman with the cross. The butterfly fluttered on the child, on the lap of the mother with a cross. The child asked for a kiss, the mother put down the cross and the butterfly flew. A flower remained, blossomed and all that was between them was pure. The flower faded and the butterfly returned, dew on its wings, dew in its eyes.

A and A:
They were two separate bodies, two separate people, yet they were connected. They shared love for the world and they were interested in each other and in ways to become one with others and they did it so simply, so beautifully. They stretched out their arms, rounded on top, pointed on bottom so that the space between them was outlined in a heart.

M and J C:
She was petite like a child, but there was more than a child in this angel in black. She had slithered into his life, wrapped herself around his heart and changed his life. She offered him beads, he offered his heart. She stood in shadows, he stood in light. Through a barrier, they reached out to one another, he felt her without touching her, and she encouraged him, with a move, with a sway, with the twist of a hip. He greeted the world openly he had nothing to hide. Together they faced the world as if all the world should be as much in love as they were.

EO and J
He was a creature of the night, she was alive with the light, with the night and with the world around her. The smallest things caught her attention, and every moment was now for her. She didn’t have to think past now, she only had to be now and now was with him and they brought their bodies into battle against one another. A foot flew up to a neck, a hand reached out to clutch, to grab. There was a force that was never fulfilled, there was a passion that had only begun to blossom.

MP:
All it took was a birthday hat and a bottle of champagne. They created a world where balloons flew overhead and cakes were given. They were like little girls again, dressing up, making believe, and then she folded like a doll. She tried to run away, her suitcase in hand, something sad behind the smile and the smile, turned bright, it was another world now and another world then and tomorrow might be another one again. They played in the night, played without light and as long as it stayed dark they would never have to grow up.

JH:
You need wings to fly. He was not a likely fairy, men often aren’t, but there was a lightness in his soul and he donned the wings and let them fly. The people around wanted to see him fly and he didn’t disappoint. He opened his arms, held them out into the air, he opened his soul and held it out to the world and felt himself embraced.

DG:
I bring nothing to the table, he claimed as he set the stage for a moment that had lived in his mind. He crafted his imagination into reality, two hands touching, a man reaching for a woman, a woman reaching for a man. Click. That moment could never become dream again. It was captured, recorded, documented and time moves on. The image lives on and that touch might breed an idea, might fill a table with ideas so plentiful food might never again be needed.

JL:
She laughed, but that wasn’t right, was it? Was it okay to laugh, okay to forget for a moment? She smiled, but that wasn’t right, was it? It is okay to laugh, okay to forget for a moment. She cried, and that felt right for a moment. For a moment. For a forever moment in time. That felt right. But the smile had been there. Was it okay, it was okay, will it be okay? It will.

JG:
She was quiet until she put on a wig and then the tambourine jangled, the feet danced. She had a rock star soul in a southern package. She was Mardi gras and cheering and celebration, she was the excitement, the rush, she was who she should have been if dreams are given a chance. But the best part of dreams is there is always time to realize them.

SS:
She loved the floppy ears of the rabbit, but rabbits didn’t sit in the light of the moon. Surrounded by her images, her art, she became art herself. The ears were short and pointed and the tail long and fluffy. She could have killed a rabbit that night, as she pranced and prowled. Her tail took on a life of its own, her booty wiggled, and the light turned on the artist but the artist had a light of its own.

LL and JM:
The light of the moon was no match for the light within this nymph, this fairy. She filled the moon. Maybe gave her a kiss, then let her shine. She had wings, but not the wings she wore on her back. She had wings that sprouted from her smiles, wings that flew on her love. She filled the moon with her curves, curtsied with class. She was elegance and energy, love and light and when she left the room, the night dimmed.

Man in the moon.
He wanted to be close to the moon, so close to the moon that he could become the moon. It wasn’t long before the two became one, before the moon became him and he became the moon.