Weeping moon

The sun came to me and sighed. 

Whispered slowly with silent cries.

Spoke the words that my love is with the moon.

The night is where my soul will reside. 

With these words the sun no longer looked joyous.

But had the eyes of sorrow. 

He wished that he would no longer rise within tomorrow.

I told him the moon shines bright no matter the darkness.

On the most silent of nights. 

I gaze within the sky and all I see is twinkling lights.

He showed me there is love even when you’re in darkness.

There is hate within words and your tongues sharpness.

The sun may seem happy and bright.

But that’s because his life has always been so full of light.

But the moon.

He’s tragically beautiful. 

He’s been wounded.

He may not have enough beauty to light up the whole skies.

But his beauty has always been enough in my eyes.

The moon weeps and wallows at dusk. 

Loudly.

Proudly.

For he wants the world to know he’s sad.

He welcomes the darkness.

He shines despite it.

Lying within the night time dimly lit.

Basking within the moonlight reminds me 

I’m a spiritual being.

No matter the darkness that envelops me.

It’s light and love that I’ll only be seeing.

I’m the moon.

The moon is me.

Dimly lit and quietly beautiful.

Is what I’ll be.