She thought herself wind,
but really she was rain–
Cold and sleek;
Unrelenting, she remained.
If she were wind,
she’d be brash and bold.
Unwilling to settle.
A feat to behold.
Something told her
to shine like the sun:
Bright and steadfast,
a beacon for everyone.
But what of the moon?
Pale and prone to change.
Does it always have to be
mysterious and strange?
Maybe she’s one.
Maybe she’s the other.
Maybe she’s none.
Maybe she doesn’t bother.
Minds can be provoked.
Mouths will still chatter.
But, let’s get real,
none of it should matter.
When it comes to others,
she’s not here to enthrall.
Because, all things considered,
can’t she be all?
–MR
virgowisheswriting 