The Moon
Late night thoughts.. who do you think the most?
Who do you think listens?
For as long as I can remember, I had only the moon to talk to. Had I met people worthy of hearing my stories, I wouldn't be so lonely as to talk only to the moon.
To this point, the moon has deemed itself worthy of being a good listener.
Night by night, I have thoughts to share but no one to tell it to. I seek for that one specific presence but to only make me wait until sunrise.
I am asked by the morning light, "Why are your eyes open with no rest from sunset to sunrise?"
I answer it with my eyes straight at it's brightest center, "I was drowned by late night thoughts. Thoughts no one to spill to."
It graced me the warmest hug a man can never give and made me feel calm, "Beside me is the moon. Might not be seen by your tired eyes right now, but take rest and if, if you are still troubled by your late night thoughts, keep in mind that the moon's ears are always open. Lend it your sweet voice and stitch your story the most beautiful way you can, it will spare you the whole night."
I trusted the morning light and took my deep sleep in the middle of the sun's cradle.
I woke myself after sunset, run off to the nearest open window, looking for a new friend. In one of my widely open windows, stared the moon back at me.
"Hi there, new friend." My mind spoke. "Mind if a lowly troubled person like me take your precious time? I would like to know if you really have ears that could hear even the most pitiful voices."
The moon shone brightly as if it answered back at me, telling me to continue sharing my tales.
After seeing it's reaction, a wild smile sprouted on my face.
Had I known this earlier, I would most definitely disarm myself and walk barefoot in the night sky along with the moon.
When the rain would make me feel blue by reminding me how I left you crying in the middle of the rain's tantrums.
When the flowers witnessed how I plucked their fellow flowers so that I can only throw them away, upset by our arguments, without letting your eyes rest on their beautiful colors.
When the trees refused to give me shelter because they saw how I treated you badly when you wanted something to lean on.
When you were supposed to be mine, but I let your heart go and the chance pass by.
All these, I tell to the moon. My only wish is that it would not judge the poor character that I am. I wish for it to understand how my pathetic brain functions.
Now my mind rests at the quietest peace after I shared my tales that was formerly partnered with yours.
For all I know, the moon listens to all, no one ignored, no one outcasted.
I may have been wrong to part ways, but I made sure the path I walk would only let me see a better you, a smiling you.
We all have different stories to tell but only have the moon to listen. Had the moon given a mouth, I will make sure to ask about and remember the chronicles about you.
It so reflects that I wonder about you as if the moon wonders about her beloved sun.
Hel and Sel
