What is it about poets and the moon?

I love a new moon 

A blue day and a blue night that holds all the potential of the world

An empty seat in a dark concert hall where all those who play each night are the headliner

I love a crescent moon

A small sliver that must fight with all its strength to shine through

A smile, a smirk, subtly cast down from the heavens as I wander through the streets

I love a quarter moon

A divided glass of milk in the inky depths 

An omen to the smiling optimist and the frowning pessimist

I love a gibbous moon

A strong crater in the darkness

A plump grin well upon its way to dominating the sky

I love a full moon

A beacon of realized self 

An entity in its complete and unrelenting form 

I love a gibbous moon

That hangs lazily in its victory 

That need not compete for the onlooker’s attention

I love a quarter moon 

That still holds the growing dark to a tie

That keeps a balance at night with no villains and no heroes 

I love a crescent moon 

That has become weak and has wilted away, but is still celestial 

That winks to me as it slowly sinks deeper, for it has forgotten how to swim 

I love a new moon 

That makes me miss the light simply for it has a temporary absence 

That blank slate that still holds the strength to shape the ocean’s waves many miles below