The moon is my true love.
My friends tell me they worship a god,
but my goddess is speckled with craters,
her existence fleeting,
her femininity ethereal,
and she teaches me
that the only constant in life is change.
I wonder if the waves follow
her darkness or her brightness,
throbbing up and down
like a heartbeat struggling to survive
Or a flower simply blooming
towards the warmth.
She lifts the waters with a little touch.
I’m not sure if I should
follow her light or darkness.
I find peace in the night,
but it’s her face that leads me home.
I believe it is both of them,
her delicate brightness against
the starless night that enthrals me.
They make me feel
as though my existence depends
on her soul and that
my heart is beating towards her.