“What were you doing?”
My sister’s voice drifts down the hall
As I enter the house and close the door behind me.
“Looking up at the sky…”
I reply,
My mind still fumbling after the beautiful sight as it fades away,
Further and further from my memory with every passing second.
“Well, lock the door.”

She’ll never be able to comprehend
The wonders that I have seen this night
From her seat on the living room chair.

Staring up at the expansive dome
That surrounds my small, sleepy little farm town,
I feel strangely at home.
The moon illuminates every delicate detail
Of the clouds that surround her
As they attempt to suffocate her,
To swallow her victorious beams.

She shone bright and blue only yesterday,
And her celestial beauty,
Though past its prime,
Still blazes through the haze like a beacon,
Guiding my searching soul through the darkness.

Why am I so drawn to such ever-fleeting images of wonder?
Any attempt to preserve such a scene pales in comparison;
A cheap replica of a glorious
And unrepeatable
Phenomenon.

Some are quick to overlook the wonder
That I have witnessed this night;
A nearly full moon at midnight seems to them
Rather trivial, an image only capable
Of fueling feelings of loneliness and mundane clichés.

I see things differently.

I am the moon.
I struggle to shine through the darkness of my past
Because I know that when night passes
I will shine brighter than ever before.

I am the clouds.
I have tried to smother
Someone else’s spotlight,
And I have hung around like smoke,
Slowly bringing others down
As I desperately try to raise myself up.

And I am the stars.
Holding fast to the sidelines and backgrounds,
I am marginalized
As others try to outshine me or cover me up.

Gazing intently at this calm, cloudy night,
I feel no sense of loneliness.
I look up at sky and smile peacefully,
For I know that I am with friends.