Dear Friend

Dear friend,

The affair I’ve long shared with you is beyond self-passion.

You’re not my escape from the sun;

You’re the lover I needn’t strain myself to see.

And every time I gaze upon you,

It’s as if I’ve never seen you before.

You’re quite the sight—

dazzling,

even without your own light.

Or maybe it’s just my eyes,

Reborn along with your powerful phases.

It’s why I’ll always be your growing maiden,

whispering to you the way a friend would,

involving you in my deepest secrets,

knowing you’re too far to share them,

yet too close to overlook me,

and not laugh about the visions I plant.

And then,

as if you heard me while you’d gone unnoticed,

a sliver of light appears like an eye that opened,

blinked,

and agreed to the seeds of my intentions.

In time,

I hold two halves of myself,

Do you feel the same balance when your light hides an equal shadow?

You continue to expose yourself,

almost full,

partly hidden,

as if you’ve trusted the mission of every appearance,

and accepted evolutions that grasp their own might.

It’s pure love for my lover,

for galaxies hold spectacular colors,

but in your fullness,

I’m more fascinated by volcanic greys that appear like sparkling whites.

That’s when I reminisce: how many human lives have you witnessed across the span of lifetimes?

Did they all feel like your lover?

I’m not an envious friend,

I cherish you more because you’ve seen each one hope for something,

while in the dark.

So ancient,

yet so new,

and I’m still that little girl,

against all sound reason,

counting on your presence to shift something for me,

too.

My loud but unspeaking enchantress,

You crawl back to your shadows again,

as if to process everything said to you.

Perhaps if it were in my power,

I’d fly to you then,

not to conquer you,

but to be buried inside your darkening opposites,

For every soul needs its rest after rumbling like a gentle storm.

Do you think me a fool for regarding you like this?

If you do,

I’ll consider myself a great fool indeed,

for when the sun is blocked from humanity,

billions stop to gaze at you like a miracle.

They make songs out of you—Moon River, Here Comes The Moon—seeing themselves in you,

perhaps not in the same ways I do,

But in the ways they understand.

So friend,

Do not mind this fool whenever she weeps and looks up at you with the eyes of a child,

asking for guidance and inspiration.

I walk with you,

Knowing at my end,

You’ll honor the life I’ve lived without even knowing my name,

or the sight of my grave.

So goodnight to you.

Good morning,

when the early sky doesn’t hide you,

And goodbye,

When I have nothing to say,

And hello again,

When I don’t have to say anything,

and yet,

I do.

Yours truly,

Lover and friend.