She is consistent. Reliable. She shows up every night and reflects light without needing to be the source of it.
She does not love being captured, yet she insists on taking up space.
She has moods. Super. Blue. And sometimes, quietly, she bleeds.
She does not like to be ignored.
She moves oceans without raising her voice.
She tells us when it is time to begin. When it is time to release. When to gather. When to let go.
She disappears some nights. Entirely. And still, we trust she will return.
She does not rush her becoming. She grows inch by inch. She teaches patience.
She does not compete with the sun. She borrows light and makes it her own.
She stirs something ancient in us. Calls babies forward. Makes some of us restless. Pulls at our edges. Restores what we did not know was tired.
She is close enough to move us. Far enough to remain her own.
We have studied her for centuries and still do not fully understand her. She keeps something for herself.
She is cyclical.
She is powerful.
She is allowed to be dark.
She is feminine.
She is my friend.
And she is also a mirror.