Warm like the kisses the sun leaves on the plants just before it bakes them to perfection.
Basking in preheating my emotions. Just before the boil over. Right at the edge of my tipping point into lunacy, rage, and passion.
The sun knows very well how to cook me in its tempting furnace as it beckons me closer until I am burned once again by its luminous deceit.
The sun is a liar. It shows the shadows much better than the moon. The moon is the one I trust. I trust her in her bright darkness. I trust her in her changeability. I trust her because she goes away just long enough for me to miss her and only stays around long enough for me to get off to her beauty and ask her questions before she wanes into her contemplative slumber allowing me to figure it all out on my own.
She is my good teacher. I am her eager pupil. Nightly lessons in my slumber are the classroom and the laboratory of my dreams. I manifest my world of rainbows and light with no sun.
I know full well that the moon only shines because of the Sun’s rays. It is not the Sun, however, who’s visage is reflected with such subtle shading. The sun does not allow me to gaze at him and study his hills and valleys. He reveals not his shortcomings and shares not his wisdom.
No, it is the moon. My moon Goddess shines in my darkness. She gives strength at my weakest hour. She smiles back at my gaze. Her beauty is not the proud arrogance of blinding light.
Hers is a beauty shared.
Hers is a beauty reflected.
Hers is mine.
She is my mirror.