I am with friends

“What were you doing?” My sister’s voice drifts down the hall As I enter the house and close the door behind me. “Looking up at the sky…” I reply, My mind still fumbling after the beautiful sight as it fades away, Further and further from my memory with every passing second. “Well, lock the door.” She’ll never be able to comprehend The wonders that I have seen this night From her seat on the living room chair. Staring up at the expansive dome That surrounds my small, sleepy little farm town, I feel strangely at home. The moon illuminates every delicate detail Of the clouds that surround her As they attempt to suffocate her, To swallow her victorious beams. She shone bright and blue only yesterday, And her celestial beauty, Though past its prime, Still blazes through the haze like a beacon, Guiding my searching soul through the darkness. Why am I so drawn to such ever-fleeting images of wonder? Any attempt to preserve such a scene pales in comparison; A cheap replica of a glorious And unrepeatable Phenomenon. Some are quick to overlook the wonder That I have witnessed this night; A nearly full moon at midnight seems to them Rather trivial, an image only capable Of fueling feelings of loneliness and mundane clichés. I see things differently. I am the moon. I struggle to shine through the darkness of my past Because I know that when night passes I will shine brighter than ever before. I am the clouds. I have tried to smother Someone else’s spotlight, And I have hung around like smoke, Slowly bringing others down As I desperately try to raise myself up. And I am the stars. Holding fast to the sidelines and backgrounds, I am marginalized As others try to outshine me or cover me up. Gazing intently at this calm, cloudy night, I feel no sense of loneliness. I look up at sky and smile peacefully, For I know that I am with friends.