Moonless nights are those that are hopeless.
Mine is so.
The stars hurl their futile rays across millenia after millenia
but i am still blind.

My steps are taken hazardly,
until my obstination of walking in the dark crumbles
like the day has done.

And so here i sit in the darkness,
listening to the whispers and twinkles of the sky's chandelier.
I know that lady of the sky is not lost. She will return.
The wilderness of the night will become saturated with celestial wonder
and the residents therein will howl and hoot with excitement.

And there will be another traveller. Her light will shine down on him.
His night will be the eve of hope and he will walk,
unencumbered by the loathsome darkness she has driven from his perceptions.
His journey will be triumphant only in debt to her radiance.

I can only hope that this traveller is aware of his fortune,
to travel under the moon's affections,
because simply to know she exists is
in no simpler terms
a gift from the universe