The Moon is a Doorway

For the nightmares we all face...

The Moon is a doorway to the Imagination
A winding hallway pocked with parlors of partiers
And bedrooms lighted and safe (?),
If only I could sweep away those annoying dark corners
And places under the bed, and (gasp!) the sinister Closet
Whose obsidian blackness envelopes even the brightest of lights...

Or is the Moon a window tightly shut,
Frosted with cataracts to mask the blood-shot chaos
Strewn about Imagination's twisted, shifting staircase
A bridge disappearing into fog or darkness, leading
Away to another place or nowhere in equal measure?
Is it a trap or an escape? No way to find out except...

The Moon, it hovers in the night sky
And leaves me below, wishing and wondering,
"How careful should my wishes be?"

Author's Note

All comments and suggestions welcome.