"Where the Moon Forgot to Shine"

In a town where silence stitched the air,

And time moved slow on shadows’ dare,

There stood a field of silver grain,

That shimmered not beneath the rain.

For overhead, the sky was wide,

But something missing from the tide—

No gentle gleam, no lunar sign…

This was where the moon forgot to shine.

The stars still blinked in ancient tales,

And comets traced their silver trails.

The wind still whispered lullabies,

Yet darkness pooled in children's eyes.

The river flowed, yet mourned its path,

Reflecting only starlight's wrath.

It missed the moon’s soft pale design,

In this place the moon forgot to shine.

The night was long, much longer still,

As if the world had lost its will.

Owl songs turned into hollow cries,

Wolves howled not at ghostless skies.

Lovers paused their secret vows,

Afraid of dark that truth allows.

For without that silver divine,

Hearts would drift, and stars resign.

Mothers told the tale at night,

With trembling lips and candlelight.

Of how the moon, once full and fair,

Vanished from the wounded air.

Not broken, nor was it slain,

But wandered off to ease its pain—

For earth had grown too cold, too blind,

And so, the moon refused to shine.

Some say it wept behind a cloud,

Some say it hid beneath a shroud.

Some whispered it was love betrayed,

By planets that had slowly strayed.

Others claimed it burned away,

Ashamed it lit the path of prey.

But none could prove, nor redefine,

Why in their sky, it ceased to shine.

The tides, once dancing with the shore,

Now slept upon the ocean floor.

The boats lay moored in listless rows,

Afraid to move where darkness grows.

No compass worked, no star aligned,

No sailor dared the midnight brine.

For sea and sky no longer twine,

Where the moon forgot to shine.

And yet one child, with lantern held,

Refused to bow where others knelled.

She wandered fields with midnight shoes,

To find what light the world might lose.

She spoke to trees, to ancient stones,

To winds that hummed in hollow tones.

"Have you seen the crescent's sign,

Or know why the moon forgot to shine?"

A willow wept and softly stirred,

Its branches cradling her word.

“I knew her once,” the old tree sighed,

“When she would bathe the world in pride.

But voices rose and hearts grew dim,

They cursed her light on every whim.

She left not out of scorn or spite,

But to grieve the world’s lost light.”

Still on she walked, through frost and flame,

Past villages that bore no name.

She climbed a hill that touched the sky,

And raised her lantern, asking why.

And from the void, a whisper came—

Not cruel, not kind, not seeking fame:

“Oh child, you burn with hope so fine…

Do you still wish the moon to shine?”

She bowed her head and answered true,

“I miss her light in skies of blue.

But more than that, I miss her grace,

The calm she brought to time and place.

We took her glow, but gave no song,

She bore our sins for far too long.

And yet, I hope she’ll realign…

To guide us when the stars decline.”

The sky grew still, the wind drew close,

The silence now a holy ghost.

And there, between the breath of night,

A shimmer bloomed, so faint, so light.

The clouds began to part with care,

And silence knelt beneath the stare.

Then rose a crescent, soft, divine—

The moon, at last, began to shine.

But not the same—her glow was old,

A touch more blue, a touch more cold.

As if she’d wept through every phase,

Alone across a million days.

She cast her light on hills and seas,

On rooftops, lakes, and sleeping trees.

And whispered through the ancient pine,

“I shine again, but not to blind.”

She lit the world not like before,

But gentler now, and something more.

Her light was laced with quiet grace,

A balm to heal, not to replace.

The stars looked on with humbled eyes,

The oceans sighed beneath the skies.

And those who knew the pain of time,

Felt peace where the moon began to shine.

So mark this tale in whispered rhyme,

Of love withheld and stolen time.

Of how a world so used to light,

Forgot the cost of endless night.

And how one heart, a child so small,

Rekindled hope with lantern’s call.

Let every soul in dark incline—

Toward where the moon forgot…

Then chose again…

To shine.