The sun and the moon are
opposites.
One burns bright, blinding,
The busy day.
The other soft, lighting
The quiet night.
The sun, is a showoff,
He shines through anyone,
Or anything, that tries to hide
His face. His thundering laughter
Echoes off, even the darkest of cloud
Showing us that black and blue
circumstances, can’t keep him quiet.
He feels and reflects, only the light
Things of this life. Happiness
Fills his definition, his self.
He announces his presence,
When he arrives, when he leaves,
Painting the skies with gold and pink.
Making sure that even though he’s
Gone, at rest, you’ll remember.
The moon is still, silent,
Content to be hidden behind
The scenes. She knows her place,
Her purpose, shining simply so
Night is separate, from the day.
She feels the pain and tears
Of insomnia, watching over those
Who wait, who lose sleep, over lost
Dreams, chances, memories—
And finds she can relate.
She embraces each change, each
Phase she goes through. Taking note
Of how time passes by. Sometimes big,
Sometimes broken, sometimes hidden,
But never bold enough, to conquer the sky.
The sun and the moon are opposites,
One burns bright, blinding,
The other is soft, lighting.
But both burn with questions,
Of how the other exists.
He longs to know the moon,
Her quiet, still, frame of mind,
The way she relates, the things she feels,
How she holds everything he lacks.
And she pines for a piece of the sun,
His light, carefree beams,
How he can laugh, shrug it off,
Admiration from all who see.
To know more of her,
To be more like him.
A balance, a compromise,
Of everything simple,
Of all that’s complex.
One Word at a Time 