Every night
the Moon follows him
casting her eyes upon
a silver landscape
like a luminous guide
they travel together, him and her.
Across the sky
the stars bow as they pass
so do the trees sigh
even on days she's hiding
or shy— he can't tell,
only gaze
until she appears
when the darkest phase
is over and the clouds
part for her entrance,
when she is full
and everything's bright again
We are all like the bright Moon; we still have our darker side.
Khalil Gibran
