The moon is friends with the loneliest of people. It is mystical and magical and majestic, and there is something sacred that lures everyone in. Yet it’s seen only seen by those who look for answers, those who sit on their roof at night searching the stars for some coded language to guide them.

The moon has the same same qualities as a secret garden founded by lovers, or a painting that is understood only by those who can see the brushstrokes. It holds a special secret that the viewer is left to uncover. I think the moon is just another place for unmoored shadows to reflect on when they started falling behind in the race. To reflect on when they fell behind and started seeing their friends loop them in milestones.

The moon creates a place where millions of secrets and wishes are tossed up into the abyss like a fountain full of pennies. The saying “it’s just a floating rock” doesn’t exactly go along with what they understand in the back of their mind. They know that the world still accepts them and doesn’t pull them down into the dirt to rot. Some people are convinced they can float off in the wind whimsically with the gentle breeze, but the moons friends keep their feet firmly planted in the awkward and and hold their head up above the dusty boneyard of dying dreams.

It is because they know to sidestep shiny pennies. It is because those who don’t spend their nights crying under the moonlight don’t see true miracles simply because they don’t look for them. I find that the people who need love and kindness see them more often- a quality I regularly attribute to those who befriend the moon.