From the darkness of my room,
under the darkened sky,
I gaze at the only light that shines on Earth
and keeps the calm of the night.
The moon,
I look up from below where I lie,
the small light that saves the night.
It stands all alone,
quiet, slowly looking around,
never forgetting its duty.
It doesn’t shake or waver,
even when dark clouds try
to cover its little light,
It stands still.
With refined patience,
an elegance that pushes back the dark,
Its gentle glow peeks into where I lie,
filling the room with unending calm,
feeding my sleepless thoughts.
And I keep staring at it,
But why?
I look at the moon
as if I could see a message within it,
and maybe I did,
Or maybe I didn’t.
All I see are its attributes:
its strength,
It's quite persistent,
It's a reminder that darkness is not permanent.
Is that the message?
Or am I still meant to find it?