#moonsongs

Binary star credo

Permanent entanglement:

Push, pull, ebb, flow

Visage reflected upon still water

Of the pale and frightful light that evening

Momentous in torment

How the brine called out to be enticed

Pleading with lapsing surges

As if to say

I beg to be in motion again

Look up, brackish brood

Behold the face of the goddess

That claims your tantalized tide

Look up, fretful fen

Spy with no salt in undertow

The orb with which you clamor

Rising high into the other deep black

Unattainable, unmistakable:

You are not glowing as fondly today, Moon. Is it because you are competing with the stars?

You can not, must not, compare yourself to them, my dear. They are of an entirely different celestial fabric than you.

All are unique, but there is only one of you, one of your kind.

I know men have not stepped on them as they have stepped on you, and because of this, I mourn for you.

In spite of this, or maybe because of this, you must bask in the glory that others shine upon you. It is yours for the taking. Yours to behold, cherish.

Know this: You are admired by so many.

And you must shine on, even when none are looking. Especially then, because in the darkest of nights, and the nights are growing darker now, you are the brightest light we have.

Gothface Shitpost Callivember Day 3

"The moon was thin as a hair-line. It was as if I had raised my arm and punktured* the firmament itself, with a cresent-shaped nail, letting the light beyond peer through the tear."

— @sciapod