You looked beautiful tonight. The kind of beauty That grabs all eyes and insists that they pay you attention.
But moon, tell me, are you lonely up there? The infinity of stars that lay scattered in your presence, seem as if they could be pleasant company, but is it all an illusion?
The stars trick the foolish into thinking that they are in your constant amity. Thatβs what it looks like to us, Moon. But those stars have never uttered one word to you have they? Immeasurable distances make conversing quite difficult, I would imagine.
Are you sad, Moon? Is it distressing, Luna, that us, the ignorant, believe that just because our eyes see the stars in a way that makes us believe they are near to you, that you are not hurting?
Child of the night who lives solitarily. Do you weep? Do you shed tears that we mistake for beauty against the vast night sky?
Daughter of the dark, who graces all with her entrancing despondency, Was there ever a time when you had hope that somebody, anybody would save you from your fate?
Do you feel forsaken my love? What have you done, Moon, that would condemn you to this paradoxically poetic reality? You didnβt want this. You only wanted to shed awe upon us, and light the path home when it got too dark. And what have you gotten in return?