Humour me

Wake up
Cold frozen Moon hanging in the distance, captures your eye
Your eyes
The scent of water nearby startles you,
No time to look with a Blanca Blazed Beauty in the sky
No time to fear, all you have is an illustration of spontaneous setting change
What comes next in the instantaneous reaction?
A warm wet drizzle down your face, wet and lively
From the river or facet or toilet perhaps?
You taste salt
Move to wipe the single streak of wetness with your hand...
...damn that Luna....distracting is all
You look down on crimson hands.

How will you die?

As time begins...it ends

Waves wash upon the shore,
Sands of time forever morphed.
Not by man: infernal
Nor time: eternal
Nor God: immortal.
Rather, by Mother Night: nocturnal
Her home: internal

These shores are mine