A Lone Moon

 

When I think about a lone moon I think about our moon. Afterall, we only have the one while other planets in our solar system have several. Why do you suppose that is? Do you think the moon gets lonely or does she enjoy her solo journey in the sky? Perhaps when she is full, her light is so bright she forgets that she is the only one around, other than the Earth, of course. Maybe that's it! Maybe she talks with the Earth as she spirals around in her endless dance. Does the Earth talk back to her? Perhaps, in her own way; just a couple of celestial ladies wandering the black void of space looking for something to talk about. 

A lone moon swinging in the sky with no inner light of her own but merely reflecting the light of those around her. Do you think the other stars know? Could the Moon possibly be sad that she can only linger in the shadows, watching other worlds go by, hoping they catch her at her fullness so she can show them just what she is capable of. Not even the cosmic stuff of the universe can escape the influence of those around them and their influence upon them in turn. 

What is the real moon? Is she her most authentic self when she is full and round, a shining orb that fascinates our eyes and captures our hearts? Perhaps when she is invisible to us, reflecting the light of no other, resting in her darkness; maybe then she is happy. When all expectation is shed from her, when we are left to our own devices, in the night, in the dark. I know I feel most myself when I am not thinking about anyone watching me or expecting anything of me, when I can be and experience my own world. Perhaps I am a lone moon. 

I can reflect the light of others, dazzle anyone with my shining form. I also have phases, a waning and waxing of authenticity, in fluctuations of comfort and daring. I can be dark and unresponsive, a silent observer of the world around which I revolve. You may judge me and think my shadow harsh. You may see my light as false, me an imposter just trying to make a name for myself, trying to find my place among the stars. The paradox of the Moon is that she is all these things, and so am I. So I travel through time and space, and you will only see the face I choose to show you.