I've seen the crescent moon, slipping across the sky as if coated in oil.
Paper thin, a pale smile rising from behind the mountains. With aught but her light, she makes the viewers gasp in awe of her beauty, clear and bright, yet signalling a cold night. The clouds give way, always, to her pale shine.
The stars twinkle, creating a vivacious background to her beauty. After the blinding light of the day-time sun, observer's eyes welcome her. They watch her every move, seeing her glide gracefully, a ballerina to compare to any on earth.
Each glimmer that reaches the earth stays there, transfixing the heart of a wayward human. That is why she exists. To bring beauty into the commonplace world, shining her pale light, blowing soft, cool kisses to her watchers.
She is the crescent moon, yet more.