I suppose there are two kinds of people: the Sun, and the Moon.
The Sun kind of people are those whose presence feels inevitable—
who blaze through the world, radiant and certain,
showing everyone how essential their light is
The Moon kind of people, on the other hand,
work quietly behind the scenes.
Their glow is gentler, borrowed,
yet without them, the night would lose its meaning
I suppose there are two kinds of people: the Candle, and the Match
The Candle kind of people burn to illuminate others,
never minding how it costs them pieces of themselves.
The Match kind of people spark easily,
bright for a moment,
but take more than they give—
leaving behind the scent of smoke
And maybe there are two kinds of people still: the Sunrise, and the Sunset
The Sunrise kind of people are the ones who stay—
who prove that not everything is fleeting,
that some things, and some hearts, can last.
The Sunset kind of people are those
who were always meant to teach us something,
then go
Yet they never really leave;
a trace of their light lingers
in the darkest corners of who we are
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
I suppose there are two kinds of people: the Sun, and the Moon.
The Sun kind of people are those whose presence feels inevitable—
who blaze through the world, radiant and certain,
showing everyone how essential their light is
The Moon kind of people, on the other hand,
work quietly behind the scenes.
Their glow is gentler, borrowed,
yet without them, the night would lose its meaning
I suppose there are two kinds of people: the Candle, and the Match
The Candle kind of people burn to illuminate others,
never minding how it costs them pieces of themselves.
The Match kind of people spark easily,
bright for a moment,
but take more than they give—
leaving behind the scent of smoke
And maybe there are two kinds of people still: the Sunrise, and the Sunset
The Sunrise kind of people are the ones who stay—
who prove that not everything is fleeting,
that some things, and some hearts, can last.
The Sunset kind of people are those
who were always meant to teach us something,
then go
Yet they never really leave;
a trace of their light lingers
in the darkest corners of who we are
