The speaker imagines a world where the moon rules and the sun never arrives. It looks beautiful at first: orchards of lavender trees, shimmering bees, silver light, and a sadness that simply can't survive there. The dream feels like an escape, a place where midnight has replaced noon and everything is softened.
But cracks show early. Shadows fade into "invisible ghosts," and in the third stanza the speaker admits that without sun you can't even recognize a friend. Nobody helps anyone because no struggle is visible. The comfort of this world comes with loneliness.
The last stanza steps out of the dream. The speaker dreamed it "yesterday" and now can't make sense of it; the once-clear words look like a rune, a puzzling code. The vivid images burst like a balloon. The mood moves from dreamy and enchanted to uneasy, and finally to a quiet, wistful loss, as if the speaker is left holding something beautiful that has already vanished.