Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Time Herbert James Draper, The Gates of Dawn, 1900 How to begin a concept with no beginning or end. A concept that simply is. Whether one will accept it or not is a narrative subject exclusively to customization. A man-made creation like luck or the Devil. Except this one is real—and all we have. I wish not the life of another, for the music would not sound the same, the books would not call to me, and these words would not stumble so poorly. The sky would be a bit bleaker, and the duck on the curbside would have meant to me what the sand is to the stars. So, see, I yearn not for the life of another. Not that life. The stability—or security, though not to be mistaken to go hand in hand— brought forth by that life and the decisions it’s taken; that is what is desired. So fiercely it is incapacitating, and consequently, stagnating. But do not mistake my dreadfully imperfect words; I wish not to live a life that’s not my own. ‘But it is so easy. Find your vocation!’ What to do when it all is? Time is not enough to perfect yourself in it all. Yet, if you dip your toes in all the absurdities it has to offer, in all that kick starts your brain even remotely, just for a blink, then you remain a dilettante. A dabbler, a fake. Fraudulent, even. A cold and grimy room. The same one I am also uncomfortable in upon becoming a virtuoso only at the expense of sacrificing all other knowledge and devoting myself to the profession I chose out of a hat. Now try too little and you’re a coward. There is too much I enjoy. so much to experiment with, to learn, to inevitably mess up so colossally I become disgraceful, to appreciate and cherish. This rock has a stupendously overwhelming amount to offer. How, sensibly, am I to choose one over the other? Thoughtlessly or not, should I not choose just one, then I remain a cheat. If there is one thing time has made us all, even if imperceptibly so, is selfish. True to myself, but selfish, nonetheless. Because I want it all. I want to speak of it all, to share it all, bond with it all. And not just the words I string together to call a book. A husband and a confidant, a companion, and a father. Naturally, a family, and this career—which, Time, o Time, has forced me to pursue— and enough friendship to make me dizzy. None of this can I deny; I am as selfish as they come. And there is only one to blame, though it is not I. I thought perhaps it was youth, the one haunted by this Time. But it’s simply the same merciful ghost that guides tired souls over. It’s the one the nescient— from pride, guilt, or fear—equal in measure— run away from, and the wise accept with open arms. The only cord you cannot cut. Time, fortunately or unfortunately is entirely up to oneself, is all. It heals, only to turn around and do the exact opposite. First, it’s anxiety: When are you having children? When do you graduate? When are you moving away? To turn into bitter regret: Why didn’t you accept? Why didn’t you visit? Why didn’t you try? The only constant is the sand filling the glass bulbs. Time passed or the one we eagerly, or contrarily, very dreadfully, anticipate. To my unpleasant surprise, my time appears to be everyone else’s, and theirs mine. What best to do with this incessant thing? To love, it seems. To admire and value the way the skies darken only to shine again. Or the lizard’s dance at your doorstep, a greeting after a long day of work. The way she asked if you were alright. What a pesky friend, that Time. The one I’ve no choice but to keep around. — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Inescapable Daydream “Nevertheless, you are mine.” 2021 Wish It Wouldn't Bleed "Should it hurt more to grieve if the lover was fair?" 12.26.2024 Peaches “Sweeter than the peach / that blooms at the halt of rejuvenating springs,” 2021

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Braveheart (Montague Street) Norman Rockwell, Marriage License, 1955 Un momento inesperado, e inoportuno tal vez, también. Igual, no dejo de pensar en él. No lo conozco, y a la vez Ha vivido más que esta vida conmigo Nos conocimos por el río En la parada de un tren En el estreno de la sinfonía Española. No le gustó. Y siempre demasiado lejos de mí. Pero en el silencio que dominó esas noches, sorprendentemente delicado, encontramos un sanctuario de algo que no entiendo del todo. Lo que sí entendí fueron las cartas no escritas, las flores, y la forma en que él quedó perfectamente grabado en mi memoria. ¿Será su corazón igual que el mío? Me dijo que si podía amar, Y le creí. Le creo. Y me pregunto por qué me lo habrá corregido tan firmemente. Como si hubiese pensado lo contrario en algún otro momento. Lo presentí al tocar su piel, y no supe cómo descifrarlo. Pero me intriga, Y me atrevo a decir que lo quiero más por eso. No me lo quiere decir, y se lo entiendo. Pero con ternura es en la única forma en que se tratar, y ansiosamente espero que sea suficiente para atar mi corazón al de el. — A.M. Sención 04.07.2025 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Poems of February 2025 "I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill." -B Same Nature (Hampstead Heath) "We are not meant to be alone." 02.2025 Primrose Hill "Dismay— / and truly being alone." 02.2025

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Cognizance William Adolphe Bouguereau, Nature's fan - Girl With Child, 1881 What is loss of innocence? Realizing your grandfather isn’t as wise as you thought he was? Or the sky not as blue as it used to be? Was it finding a reason to check Halloween treats? The slug’s curious squirming; Or the wonder, now ameliorated, upon Man’s reenactment. Maybe the flickering light at the end of the bar, and the way it made you feel when he left. Forget the light; and when you’ve turned big and bad to old eyes which once held a warmth that shamed the sun? And it’s wrong if you decide to hang on to it, But you’re damned if you don’t; then it’s: “Who do you think you are?” So, behind closed doors, my mother’s doll still sits on linen. — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more I Can “…when all the difference lies in ink and paper.” 2024 Anatomy Of A Lover “Surrender / to the anatomy of my lover.” 2021 The Devil's angel "Men who feel love / never lack a good heart, / so I wished my soul bound to his. " 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. How Life Loves Roberto Ferri, Apollo E Dafne, 2020 I am meant to be soft in a world that moves me with calloused hands. Brusque and barbaric Setting me back down with the same scorn Beating me black and blue In such a pretty dress — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Exchange Between Heathen And Believer "As do I." 11.2024 A Poem In Disdain “My chaos. /My midnight storm.” 11.2024 Cognizance "So, behind closed doors, my mother’s doll still sits on linen." 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Inescapable Daydream Frank Bernard Dicksee, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1902 In my world you are many things. You are the eternal flame that rages within me, fueling my desires and satiating my cravings. My brightest and coolest days. The knight who cares for nothing more than my hand; to take me far, far away. To look after me while I pick berries or the day's bouquet. That’s just what it is. An immeasurable yearning for your saving. The desire to be the princess you rescue, to do unthinkable things for. You’re the love who’d climb my window, sweat above your brow after skulking past the guards, my hair cascading down my back, rippled from the pleated styles I’m told are only acceptable. Where we’d share sweet strings of rebellion, and I’d offer you a pink aster from the arrangement that was picked that morning in return. We would sneak off into secret crevices of the royal garden only I know of, where your hands would trace the curve of my waist, trailing up all the layers of skirts and coats, my fingers tangled and tugging on brown curls that when struck by rays of the sun are the color of the finest polished ambers in the first glint of dawn. We’d do and say things the elders would deem absolutely sinful, immoral. Unforgivable, wicked. Soon thereafter, we’d stroll as if nothing happened. By the hand, while I pluck marigolds, dahlias, carnations. Occasionally hiding from my father’s guards that had been sent out in my search after skipping lecture. Helping me mount the stallion, you hold the reins in your hand, where every so often I reach down with my own and caress, asking you to ride behind me for support I didn’t really need. Giving in and settling down at my hips, I’d melt into you, carefully avoiding the blade hanging off to your side. Luckily, the creature would grow old to our antics and would know just where to go despite the lack of guidance. Lost in the depths of your eyes, and your lips hovering just above mine, he’d take us away. If the story goes that I am to wed another, you wouldn’t allow it, and we would run away before even considering it. And if it goes that you are the prince I am betrothed to and we have the luxury of also being in love, then all the better. Nevertheless, you are mine. And our story goes that no matter what, we always belong to each other. — A.M. Sención 2021 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more At The Mercy Of Love “The only true fear that possesses me is / that of having you no longer.” 2023 I Can “…when all the difference lies in ink and paper.” 2024 The Devil's angel "Men who feel love / never lack a good heart, / so I wished my soul bound to his. " 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Cigarettes and Stale Beer (Camden Market) Joseph Mallord William Turner, The Garreteer's Petition, 1809 in my most comforting presence. A Sunday roast, beer I hadn’t asked for, Plans I didn’t make. within vague familiarity, I feel at ease. It shouldn’t console me. Shouldn’t be a place of solace. Shouldn’t kindle nostalgia. It should be perturbing. Should be a thing of fear. Should incite reminiscence. But it makes me want to stay— makes me comfortable with the discomfort. — A.M. Sención 02.2025 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Poems of February 2025 "I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill." -B The Boy on the Bus (31 Westbound) "He knows not / something to compare." 02.2025 Primrose Hill "Dismay— / and truly being alone." 02.2025

Welcome to Moon Prose. This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Discover Moon Prose Hi there! My name is Astrid, a 23-year-old artist, writer, and unapologetic dreamer. I was born in Miami, Florida, to Dominican parents and I was nurtured in a world of vibrant traditions, layered histories, and boundless artistic curiosity. From a young age, I’ve been captivated by the arts in all their forms and I was drawn to the transformative power of creativity, finding solace and wonder in film, music, painting, theater, fashion—each medium offering a unique lens through which to explore the infinite beauty of existence. My inspirations are as varied and profound as the human experience itself. In the grace and intricacy of Renaissance, Pre-Raphaelite, and Romantic art, where each canvas seems to pulse with life and longing. In the written word which enchants me just as much—whether in the sweeping grandeur of Wordsworth’s reflections on nature and the sublime, the soul-wrenching humanity of Dostoevsky’s narratives, or the haunting depths of Kafka’s surreal prose. Each piece I encounter adds another stitch to the fabric of my artistry. Music, however, has been my most steadfast companion . My passion here is equally diverse. While classical music—particularly from the Romantic period—holds a special place in my heart, music in general has been both my anchor and my liberation, a constant friend throughout life’s symphony. As a former concertmaster, I found a voice in the resonant strings of my violin, a voice that, even after putting my instrument down, continues to shape my creative journey with its beauty. My tastes are an eclectic dance of genres and traditions: the ardent crescendos of Romantic composers, the haunting melodies of Sephardic music, the ethereal strains of Nordic folk, the raw energy of heavy metal, the rhythmic pulse of tambores, and the nostalgic croon of doo-wop… that’s only scratching the surface. If you can name it, chances are it’s probably already in one of my Spotify playlists. For me, art—whether it’s a song, a painting, or a poem—is the ultimate unifier, a shared experience that transcends language, culture, and time. It is a phenomenon I find endlessly magical—a thread of humanity that binds us together, even in our most solitary hours. As a child, I was often told that my head was in the clouds. What once seemed a criticism has become my greatest gift. To dream, to wonder, and to wander through life with open eyes and an open heart—this, I believe, is the essence of truly living. The world is an endless source of fascination, brimming with cultures, traditions, histories, and untold stories. The more I learn, the more I find that life’s treasures are often hidden beyond the boundaries we are taught to accept. Though I once kept to myself, I have since learned the profound joy of human connection. There is immense fulfillment in lifting others up, in fostering community, and in sharing inspiration. This website is my humble endeavor to bring these passions together—a sanctuary for poetry, creativity, and friendship; to meet like-minded souls, and hopefully bring a little beauty and inspiration to others. Here, I hope you find a corner of the internet that feels like home; that it becomes a space that feels as warm and open to you as it does to me. A place where every visitor, every story, every dreamer is welcome. Perhaps my words are candid, perhaps they reveal the depth of my hopeless romanticism—but if you’ve ventured into my work, you already know that. And perhaps that is why you’re here—to share in the beauty of dreaming, together. What I Offer I specialize in creating personalized poems for any occasion. Whether you’re looking for something romantic, celebratory, reflective, or entirely unique, I’ll work with you to craft a piece that’s meaningful and tailored to your vision. Each poem is one-of-a-kind, with the style and tone customized to fit your request. Whether it’s a gift for a loved one, a tribute to a special moment, or simply an expression of your thoughts, my goal is to bring your ideas to life in words. Pricing is flexible and varies based on factors such as length, complexity, and your time frame. Once you submit your request, we’ll discuss all the details via email to ensure the final piece meets (and hopefully exceeds) your expectations. This collaborative process is one of my favorite parts of what I do—it’s a chance to bring someone else’s vision to life while adding my own touch of creativity. If you're interested in a commission, shoot me a message! Blinq

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Wish It Wouldn't Bleed Carlton Alfred Smith, Recalling the Past, 1888 But I wish not to bleed anymore. And if it makes me stronger, then what? I don’t want the lesson in strength; the wisdom, or the need to be bigger. I am not big. Only dying, over something that has no place for grief. Not when it stripped me of everything I am, not the way it was. Should it hurt more to grieve if the lover was fair? This was not so. Why, then, are there tears of gold? Why, still, do I wake at midnight to a minor key, a haunting melody, that does little to lull me back to sleep. Time will heal. But it will always feel like shattered glass on his birthday— when he looked at me, and made me believe I knew love. That scar will always be tender. To grieve the hurt that will die; please, I only wish it wouldn’t bleed. — A.M. Sención 12.26.2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Soulmate “I was made of a piece of you, / and you of me.” 2023 Time "I wish not the life of another," 2024 Paraíso "Tu paraíso privado." 01.15.2022

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. I Can Serge Ivanoff, The violinist, 1893-1983 Doubt no further, For what is there to? His accomplishments are not mine own, and so, they shall never be. Does this, then, make me unworthy? A piece of paper with a title? Or lack thereof Is my mind incapable of such arts? That which, coming from him, would be no less striking than from my hand? Perhaps even less so. Misunderstand not, for I am not better; but to exist on the same plane should not feel like a crime, something to be exiled for, or something to make me feel fraudulent when all the difference lies in ink and paper. — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Nostalgia's Blade "And He’ll remember what it was like to love." 10.04.2024 Soulmate “I was made of a piece of you, / and you of me.” 2023 How Life Loves "...meant to be soft / in a world that moves me with calloused hands." 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Exchange Between Heathen and Believer Charles West Cope, The Thorn, 1866 I love you. As do I. — A.M. Sención 11.2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Nostalgia's Blade "And He’ll remember what it was like to love." 10.04.2024 How Life Loves "...meant to be soft / in a world that moves me with calloused hands." 2024 Simply, I Love You “…the hue of those spring-growth eyes,” 2023