I was taking a brief respite outside,
late one night,
when, under the silvery silken light
of the pearl in the sky,
I came upon a solemn realization.
You and I are like the sun and moon.
You are so much like the sun.
Your love, light that can penetrate even the darkest of souls,
your laugh, warmth that can melt even the coldest of hearts.
You are the very sustenance that this Earth needs to grow,
You shine your soul freely,
over mountain and meadow,
ocean and creek,
asking for nothing in return,
as you do what you do best;
blaze in a brilliant, beautiful bloom
of oranges, reds, pinks, and purples.
But I, alas, am much too much
like the moon.
I pale in comparison to your light.
I am soft, and subtle
quiet, and calm,
and at my best, I only ever provide enough light
to make others wish it was day.
I am only ever grey, at my worst.
While I illuminate the dark, I do not dispel it
as surely as you.
I can never makes others unafraid of the night,
As the sun sets, I rise, desperately hoping to catch
any ray of you that I can, and when I hit the apex of my orbit,
I go plunging down into the horizon,
in the hopes that I catch you there, too.
We see each other so rarely now
that I have begun to call our experiences together
for that is the only time that the Sun can fully bestow
its splendor upon the moon,
and it is the only time that the moon can be selfish enough
to have the sun all to himself,
before going back into the cold, uncaring
darkness of space.
I will always rise, in the hopes that I can be good enough,
and I will always set, so that the world can feel your warmth,
for another day.