The moon is the keeper of whispers.
The moon is the deity to the souls of the romantic.
The moon is the light for the desperate and relentless.
Unlike the sun, it won’t hurt your eyes with its brilliance
It’ll let you stare at it’s imperfections.
It’ll let you stare at it’s vulnerability as it waxes and wanes.
When the world sleeps, she’ll raise her head to guide the adrift.
When the world sleeps, she’ll raise her head to luster,
Luster for those who seek beauty in the darkness,
For those who are willing to gaze into the abyss above our heads.
The moon is not afraid
Of the dark.
Of the void.
Of the fear.
And neither should you.
Don’t you dare touch her, boy.
She is water.
Her eyes imitate the abyss of the mighty oceans combined.
And that abyss isn’t afraid to stare right back.
So don’t you dare plunge into her soul
For she’ll whip up a storm from the ripples you make.
And as you try to grasp at her being,
She’ll slip right through your fingers.
A flower once stood
with a drooped head
hesitant to shine her pearl white petals
into the rays of the sun
Why are you hiding my gentle blushing flower?
tempted the wise wind from the west
Let the bees and the birds admire your luscious nectar
Let your innocent petals be the talk of the on-lookers
Straighten your back and let the world see your beauty
Why! Why should ever I go through such suffering?
mused the pretty flower
What have I ever done to them?
Is my innocence a reason?
Is it my state of peacefulness
That urges the people to pluck me?
Is it my joy and sweetness that makes the bees
Almost suck the life out of me?
If that is what it is then I’d rather be ugly and spicy
I’d rather be plain and empty
I’d rather be unloved than loved
Now, now my child
said the wise wind
You see that man with a flower
You see him with the woman whom he dearly adores
He plans to marry her but he is poor
He can not afford a diamond ring
All he has is a flower
Yet look at them, smiling and holding hands.
Happy. Content. In love.
If he had bought her a ring
She would expect more in the future
Greed would cover her love
Like a cloth on a masterpiece
This is what you do gentle flower
You are their source of togetherness
They don’t pluck you because of jealousy
They pluck you to follow their hearts into love
The pretty flower just stood there
Sinking in whatever the wise wind from the west preached
A few moments later, she rose to full height
Outstretched her petals and shone like the moon on a clear night
With a bright smile on her face.
They both thanked each other
The flower, for showing her her true essence
And the wind for letting the world become a more love-filled place
They parted with some final words by the wise wind
Love is irony, my dear
Love is hypocrisy
Love is sacrifice
Yet love is love