sábado, 21 de maio de 2011

daughter of the moon.

The moon. I have always been drawn to it. Connected, in some inexplicable way. A silent kinship. There’s the moon, asking to stay. All my life, I’ve regarded it with a solemn reverence. For the tempestuous storm it brews. The ebb and flow. Love, lust, and longing. Sorrow and anguish. Strength and hope. Brazen resilience. An image of change. Of life itself. Birth and death and rebirth. Continuous incontinuity. Everything amounts to this enormous beauty I know I will never fully be able to grasp. In all this, the moon reflects the heart of life. The kaleidoscope flux of the soul. The moon. It’s a cause for introspection. A mirror of who I have been, and a promise of who I can become.

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