She is a Moon

She is a moon—
not merely reflection, but the gravity that commands tides.

Not a borrowed glow,
but a presence—steady, resilient,
and impossible to dismiss.

She has drifted through nights that begged her to vanish,
weathered eclipses meant to erase her light,
and still, she returned each dusk,
even when her pieces felt scattered,
even when the pull was too much to rise.

You see, she does not glow to be praised.
She glows because it is in her nature to illuminate—
paths, wounds, entire souls—
with the quiet strength of her presence.

They murmured that she was too distant,
too strange, too unpredictable.
But she was never meant to be understood.
She was born to move tides.

There are nights her light wanes—
soft, hidden, nearly gone.
But even a sliver of her glow
can guide someone home.

And she holds enough
to keep glowing.

She is not a moon for myth.
She is a moon for meaning;
for healing, for stillness,
for the moments no one honors
but she lives through regardless.