Even the Sun wishes to be the Moon…

 

 

Even the sun at times wishes that he were the moon

At least two lovers at night would look at him and sigh and swoon.

 

Paeans to its beauty someone would sing

Wispy clouds like a warm blanket cling

to its surface, foamy and white

that beautiful blob of silver in the night

 

Why does the sun have to burn so?

Seething, Jealous, Orange and Yellow?

Why do people turn away at sight?

Curse, Close, Cover the blinding light.

 

While the moon sits as the crown prince

Cradled by the night, lullabied by the mother who sings

O how the sun longs to be owned for its sins

For its heart where Icarus burnt its wings

 

How does it tell those that bow to His majesty

that it longs to be loved, not revered…

To be looked at, acknowledged and stared

To be a commoner and not a king, is it such a travesty?

 

How difficult it is to be real and not the reflection

To wait every dusk for the point of hurt

when the bridal moon lights up the night…

That unbearable point of inflection.

 

Who would think even the sun at times wishes to be warm

Just for once step away from the norm.

 

P.S It’s sometimes the strongest people around us who are the most vulnerable. And that vulnerability is the source of their strength.

 

 

 

 

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