As a youth, I would gaze at her with recognition in unfamiliarity.
Night after night, I would look up to find her.
On some nights, she rested in fullness.
Sometimes, she lived wholeness.
On other nights, she rested partial in a crescent or a gibbous.
Sometimes, more absent than present.
Sometimes, more present than absent.
On most nights, I could not tell you if she was waxing or waning.
Sometimes, it was hard to tell.
On rare nights, she left me barren of her light.
Sometimes, her spirit needed some time for itself.
She went through phases.
So was her nature.
I always searched for her presence.
It mattered not the state she rested in.
I needed her constancy in light.
It did not matter the extremes.
Nights went by whereupon I would gaze upon the face of this unfamiliar moon.
Lonely in her presence, noticed in her absence.
I gaze to the sky in longing and loneliness;
To find solace in her company is a cold comfort.
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