Letters to the Moon

The moon is a funny thing, really. It is something shared by many people, but belongs to no one. Though it is there all the time, it is only experienced by those willing to subject themselves and bask in its glow. And while it celebrates a new romance between the couple on the sidewalk, gives solemn company to the lonely child in her room, and sheds sorrowful stardust over the lost soul of the man jumping off the bridge, we never quite know the secrets of the moon. The moon never complains, the moon never says. And yet there she is, without fail every night, spilling light on the world though we never quite notice. We never ask the moon, what's it like on your dark side?

And in this way, I suppose, you are like the child of the moon. After all, we are all made of stardust and particles of the universe, but I believe you have a greater part of you that's formed by fragments of the moon than anyone else I know.

And I know that you are the moon, and not everyone will find you intriguing. But that shouldn't faze you because it is not up to you to interest the hearts of those too busy staring at their feet. But you should know, there will be people, small clusters of people who gather round circles to tell stories about you as they sit under the great cosmos that they feel blessed to be a part of.

And I know that you are the moon, and you will often be forgotten as people trudge through the buzzing monotony of their lives. But you shouldn't worry, for when they get lonely or afraid of the dark, it is you to which they will turn and seek comfort. You are a constant, even when they forget, and let me tell you a secret: you're in all the favourite books that they read to their children when they cannot fall asleep at night.

And I know that you are the moon, and the weight of the world might sometimes be too heavy for your shoulders to bear. But never let that hurt you because it was never your fault that the world bore so many problems. But there are people, people like me, who write poetry about the craters on your skin, in pathetic hopes that small words will make up for this wretched world.

And I know you are the moon, and I know sometimes you're dealt with more than you can handle, but I know that you are strong beyond our wildest imaginations. And even when you're gone some nights, I hope you know that somewhere down on earth, there's a boy waiting for you with open arms and a little hole inside him where you should be. And I know that you're the moon, and that's extraordinary enough for me.