I used to think the world of you,
you know.
I was a geo-centrist,
for a short time,
convinced that the stars and the galaxies
surrounding us both were not
as important
as you.
You were the world at its finest:
the bright, sunny beaches
that I live nowhere
near.
I realize now that the world
has as much ice
as the amount of paradise
I wanted you to contain.
But now,
as the hours turn,
I see your shadows hiding
just over my favored hemisphere.
For a moment,
I thought you might have been the sun:
bigger, better than I could imagine,
blinding and necessary
to survive.
Now I know,
that despite the beaches with their sand
and the sunlight with its joy,
there are more shadows in you
than I could perceive.
You are the moon.
You are distant but present;
though I can forget you at times,
you will always be there,
with a hold over my oceans.
It takes a rocketship
and careful planning just
to reach you.
There are stars, I know, who look small to me now
whom I will one day realize
are much larger than you will ever be.
When night comes, I see you;
you
are my moon.