Pathways to Temple

Does it seem to you too grand
that I call myself the moon?

I do not mean that I have charge of night,
or that all should fall and worship me.

I cannot turn midnight lakes to silver,
or gild the trees with shadows.

I can't call forth the nightbird's song,
or light stone palaces white.

I only mean I lay beneath her quiet leaves
and count the chimes as stars chink up the sky.

I only mean I feel the breeze
as the hem of her gown ruffles past my lips

and that, like her, the velvet dark
is cloth whereon I rest my thoughts.