I was out tonight when I saw the moon, a little shrouded. And it stayed that way for a little while, no, a long while. I stared at it, nonetheless. I could still see the outline, and the glow through the clouds hiding it behind them. I could see the moon, I knew that it was still there, with all its glory. With all its beauty. It was there. Covered, shrouded, yet there. I did not deny it's good attributes just because I couldn't see it.
Then, tell me, why do people fail to remember my best at my worst?
