My mother always told me
the only certainty in life is change;
that our lives are a recurring pattern
of being and becoming each day.
This reminded me of the moon’s phases;
how it grows and regresses each time
and how its own utter beauty is evident.
When it rises, every phase flickers a spectral light.
It is a reminder to myself that life is fleeting.
May be a new moon, engulfed in darkness for a while
or waxing and waning, missing a part of oneself for a time.
However, full moon will always come, whole and bright in its prime.
It is a reminder to myself that i am worthy,
no matter how much of myself I choose to bare;
and that my mere existence is a beauty,
whether whole or in despair.
It is a reminder to myself that i am not perfect,
that i am bound by nature’s ebb and flow;
in a constant flux of growth,
with each phase equally stunning as before.
The moon rises like a warrior each night,
still emitting light in the darkest of times.
Like the way the moon pulls the tide,
I am drawn closer to who I am inside.