Dear moon,

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Oh my dear moon, last night your company was greatly appreciated yet again.  You have been my companion, unknown to you, so many times in my life that I cannot count.  Your light pouring into my room as child onto my bed comforting me through the crack in my curtains.  Sometimes I would open the blind underneath to gaze upon you.  You looking back at me with your glimmer all about.  Moonshine isn’t only in a jar, but in the sky as your radiance naked to the earth below and the stars beside you ease my thoughts and soothe my spirit.

You have stayed with me through out this journey of PAIN and disease with out want or need from me.  Your presence there with me every night unless covered by clouds or darkened by your one night that you sleep on the new moon. But I could still feel you there behind the mist, or the clouds, your light peeking through to fall upon the trees casting shadows on the ground below.  Again as a child I read that the Native Americans would make a wish on the new moon or dark of the moon as to hope for a new beginning or to right a wrong or to just simply ask for something just for you.  Your luster has been there with me during the nights where suffering was the only thing in our world.  Where the PAIN was constant and the worry dreadful.  I missed your during our stays in the city when I couldn’t find your light to smile upon.  I imagine those not near me sleeping under you as I do, gracing them with your golden glitz in the night sky.  Do they look upon you as I do?  Like an after hours friend to spend the twilight with.  The witching hour spent in your radiance like an embrace.

The moon brings the tides and the sailors home to the land.  It’s a compass, a beacon to those sailing on the sea and to me it has been the same but only in my mind.  Steering me back to the dawn, weary and broken down sometimes but none the less you were there to get me back home.  You shine on night after night never to disappoint, always there in the sky even when it is day, sometimes, I can see you reminding me of our time together.  It’s an odd relationship, I know, but it is one that has developed over the course of my life and has grown deeper with meaning the older I get and the more I stand up against the trials in my life and the more defeat I feel and the more empowered I grow when I overcome life’s cruelty and heartache.  The moon is there those nights I have cried in joy and in despair.

Alone in the night sky you hang there. Solid and shining for all to see your splendor.  Man has stood upon you once and never to return as you don’t need us like we, or maybe just me, needs you.  Your a reminder that even in the dark there is light.  There is brilliance to be seen and appreciated no matter the black that surrounds it.  Golden lustrous and polished in the night sky you sit, your craters and changing shape mean nothing to me other than that you are still there.  Ever there, ever present, ever seen or felt.  Resplendent and comforting to those seeking a refuge in the night or the shore from the sea or an image to honor and respect.  Imagination can flourish with your cozy phosphorescence.  A time to let the mind play and wander down the paths illuminated by you.

From a child staring at you from her window, or laying in the back yard in the cool summer grass feeling your energy falling down on me or watching my breaths release into the winter air when it’s the best time to star gaze or watch the moon glow, to needing your company during the most difficult of nights here in our home.  Your opulence is there in abundance and necessary for my ease.  Worry and thought can fall away as my slumber is met with you looking back at me as I bid you good night with a poem or a book sitting bedside while reading to Adler or tucking myself into bed after he’s woken with PAIN or seeking your guidance from the patio door just to make sure you are still there, still with me, still offering me that reliance and that ordinarily overlooked cheerfulness and creature comfort of yes, just the moon and it’s light in the sky.

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