The moon
When night cloaks itself in deep silence,
and the expanse of the sky
as if frozen in some invisible meditation,
then it emerges white, solemn, inevitable
As if the earth has pinned its brightest memory to the sky's forehead
There is no insistence in its radiance,
only that lasting affection
that, even without touching it,
cools the weary mind
It is a silver gem born from the churning of the ocean, which the gods
separated from the crown of heaven and fixed in the matted locks
where exile, not punishment
It became an initiation into patience and dignity
The silent currents of time
have not dimmed its radiance,
but have made it more transparent
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 😊🙏 @vikbuddy
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