The moon has no light if it’s own,
Yet we look up in awe,
As if it were burning.

It does not speak,
Yet it has heard more confessions than any priest,
More secrets than any diary.

We stare at its scars those ancient craters,
Those wounds from stones long forgotten.
And still call it beautiful.
Proof perhaps,
That even broken surfaces can shine.
It shines by borrowing,
By reflecting,
By being a mirror to the sun.

You do not need to burn to be seen.  
You do not need to be the source to matter.

And maybe,
The greatest lesson it gives us is that darkness is not the opposite of light,
It is the canvas for it.
Without the night,
The moon would vanish.
Without struggle, we would never learn that even borrowed light can change the world.

A reminder carved into the sky
That even in our emptiness,
We can still glow.