Dear Moon,
You are just a sphere of lunar rock. You are a beautiful satellite that can't help but remain cemented in your daily rotation of regularity. Instead of breaking away, denying orbital forces, you chose to circle away in your comfortable track around the planet. I admire your dedication, dear Moon, as you sacrifice yourself for a deluded view of the dying Earth that is unchanged in your eyes. Alas, the planet's oceans only serve as a mirror as you watch yourself crumble and blur among the dark night that swallows you into a black hole of your own destruction. A beautiful disaster, a ravishing travesty. I was caught in your gleam, I'll admit, until I realized that I couldn't uncloak you from your robe of shadows.
I do not need you anymore, my dear Moon. I've come to find that I am not a falling comet that you caught in your moonbeam. I am not a starstruck fool anticipating to enter an addicting and drunken reality once the moon is high. I am not a vampire with a burning hatred for the sizzling ball of light in the sky with its light waves charring my skin. I am not the moody tide that crashes upon the shore nor the surf that rises and falls at one flicker of your moonlight. Finally, I am not the sun to your moon; while some of my light shone onto your dark corners, those pieces of rock only cowered further into the arms of darkness. A star-crossed love, indeed.
Nevertheless, even though I am not hypnotized by your gleam any longer, nor will I lie awake until the midnight hours and howl with the wolves in enchantment...
you are still my dear Moon to me.
Sincerely,
Sleep tight
YOU ARE READING
dear Moon
Non-Fiction"She is merely a weed compared to a rose." "What about the dim light of the |m o o n| ...
