When its full, its full. A sliver is simply a sliver.
Let the moon be.
Let it pull the ocean, the seasons, my body. Waxing. Waning.
Nothing to do but marvel at the craters and character.
Wonder at the vastness.
Find warm green grass to curl up under, or clear crisp winter nights to walk in.
And watch. Listen.
There is no need to argue with the moon. It does me no good.
The the moon is exactly what it is.
Why then do I judge love?
|Moon layer by Glen Fahrlander|