It's when the night devoured the fading daylightーI found myself walking through a dark alleyway, finding my way back home. I tripped over a stone and fell on the cold cobbled ground. Still bleeding and in pain, I searched for light and strived to walk my way out of the dark.
Reaching the border between darkness and light, I streched out a hand to the other side.
Pale silver light spilling from above then gently touched my hand.
I decided to look up and saw the full Moon smiling at me. I was astonishedーshe looked like a gleaming halo resting in the velvety night sky, illuminating the pitch-black streets with her soft shimmering glow.
What a mesmerizing view, I thought.
Starting that night, I tend to gaze at her in astonishment, like it's always my first time seeing her. Some nights she's half, some nights she's crescent. She did have many shapes, but still nothing changedーshe's the moon and she's always beautiful no matter what.
Little by little I realized, it was her all along, lighting my dark path, like a beacon leading me home. Little by little I felt something was blooming inside my chestーsomething deeper than the night.
But cloudy nights came, surrounding the sky with puffs of gray. Those gloomy nights where I couldn't even catch a glimpse of her made me realize, I didn't have the privilage to see her all the time.
As I walked beneath a starless sky, still staring and hoping to see her one more time, I tripped and fell again. There wasn't a single wound, but an unbearable pain that I couldn't seem to find.
The pain poured like frigid rain, waking me up to realityーshe'll always be up there; I'll be stuck down here forever.
I should just be contented with her moonlight,
but was it wrong wishing to be her Sun?
That moment, I didn't know which one hurt the mostーthe pain from falling or the fact that,
This one is close to my heart. I write this straightforward without a lot of metaphors. Because this prompt really speaks to me. I'm a frustrated artist and I can't help but compare myself to others. I know that's wrong, but seeing how well they are really makes me feel small. I'm sorry if I feel that way but, that's me being honest with myself.
Three words I've kept from youー Words you'll never hear nor read No one will know, not even these words I write I just hope the moon didn't eavesdrop that night Cause it's a secret I only told the stars.
When great souls die, dreaming of stars Incarnating their starlight in cosmos Flowing beats, harmony in fallen zephyr Dusk seems quieter, painted crimson sky Mourning sparrows, symphonies of battles Devils raining tears, torrential downpour While angels stitch wings with mementos Seldom masquerades by doleful nights, Slumber lost to all believers Albeit cocoon of their creations remain Turning into butterflies of memories Inspiring felicity in tomorrows Embers ignited, ashes forming rebirths Every fragment aches to relay munificence Greats souls die only to be born again, On repeat, prevailing upon the universe Thriving thoroughly along timelines Watering cicatrix, blooming flowers And when i read through their tapestries Stories feel utopian, an unbridled obsession Making me deeply wonder Do their ashes lay a rebirth too?