The sun is not gratified
by your blind orbit,
your addiction to gravity,
your need to be held.
You value its mass
for the tug it exerts;
its furnace,
for the heat.
Yet everything wants
to be loved for itself.
You can see why
the sun envies the moon,
pale and embarrassed
of its pock-marked skin,
brittle seas of dark lava,
cratered scars of
ancient blows. How it
wears its shy hope,
knowing its body
compels no following,
offers no warmth,
confers no advantage.
How thereby the moon
can trust the gaze
that appreciates its
barren beauty,
its pagan promise
of nothing at all
that stirs
your inner tides —
the blood of
your trillion cells,
birthing and dying,
waxing and waning —
that teaches you
what it means
to love.
Meditatio Ephemera 
My addiction to gravity – unexpected?
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Beautiful, insightful mix of science and art in a creative way, Rafiki, Guess which way I tend?
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Don’t know, actually, but I’d guess science. In any case, thanks for reading!
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Beautiful reflection (projection?) – w/o the sun we’d not see the moon, but my inner child if forced to choose between the two would take a perpetually dark moon. No contest for my emotional loyalties! Thanks for stirring those emotions.
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I tend lunar myself. 🙂 Thanks for reading and reflecting, Jazz!
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