Dragging a world of water with it, the moon cascades through the sky, tracing the shadow of the sun. Caressing the night with a faint orb of light, echoing the movements of the sun but offering it one more chance to prevent utter darkness.
The moon is a floating shapeshifter, modulating it's image throughout the month, it expands its sides, bloats and compresses, it is sharp, it is soft, it is the contrast of the worlds around us.
The moon begs stories, the moon begs ideas, the moon offers a last guidance in a world of darkness, breaking the silky jet that falls over us at night.
The moon is the small ball of hope trapped in the bottom of Pandora's box, whilst the rest of the night is scathed in the mistake of opening it.