Mother Moon

The moon shines down basking us in her pure white light Reflecting the sun’s image onto us all, with her own peaceful twist If only we could say the same of ourselves Do we reflect such light and peace onto those around us? Turning fire into tranquillity, dispersing the flames Or do we burn even hotter: stars, suns in our own mini universe, consuming the weak, scalding those in our orbit I oft wonder if the moon knows what she sees. Does she pull at the oceans to dampen our folly; turn the seas to change our perspective? When the sun grows too strong and leads us astray, does she bring the eclipse to shield us from the intensity, bringing respite? Does she place us on the darkened naughty step to contemplate our heated actions and her understated influence? She knows what she sees. Our glorious, unfaltering satellite, basking us in her pure white light