the moon, a maternal deity seen overhead, a daydreamer’s invisible muse.

my moon, an embodiment of a child’s spirit

yearning for affection, craving for solitude.

my moon, ever glowing with omniscience,

from the soils of the earth to the heavens of the skies.

my moon, recognizes, hugs me to sleep,

knowing the secrets to my youthful soul aging.

my moon, a child’s fantasy of beautiful hues,

curated for imagination’s shifting dreams.

my moon, embodies the hope,

glimmering the emptiness of a clear dark sky.

lay to rest a beautiful soul;

lay dormant is a sprout of wonder in the world,

for she awaits the enchantment’s twilight. 

helpless nights where alls to eat is an imagination,

sleepless hours where feeble minds felt defeated,

painful memories where emptiness thrived.

wanes and waxes never defined perpetually,

at the end of the day, there was a cycle to be expected.

two hundred thirty-eight thousand and nine hundred miles

makes the aptitude of your treks–

yet never forgotten.

the embodiment within the midnight relic ceases any loss of sentiment:

moon cakes, gifts of the culture from parent to child,

reflections of the sun, offerings from the early Sun to Earth,

crescent tailings, remnants of an entirety left behind as memories,

visions of astrophysical remedies, manifestations of aspiring explorers.

never to have been buried are the days of utopic black paradises:

proclaiming guidance in the forms of memory, gratitude may never suffice.

indulging in peace was once never an option,

yet my moon set forth a yearning:

for the streets and grounds of the world, to be as pacifying and gentle as the boundless skies. 

a story of fathomless journeys, yet concludes a singular story;

my moon saved me, it can save others too,

my panorama of the universe started with the moon,

but it can start elsewhere for you.