There are some people who are as radiant as the sun.
Their light is bright and warm and powerful. They illuminate every room with their imagination, brilliance, and joy. They are not easily forgotten or ignored. They are wonderful and caring and oh so happy.
But there are some people who are more like the moon.
Quiet, reserved. Their light is subtler, surrounded by a deep and awful darkness. And their light is… fragile. Easily lost, easily drowned out. It doesn’t make it any less beautiful, but it makes it much harder to hold onto. Much harder to light the way.
And while the sun rises every day without fail, the moon is much less predictable.
Sometimes it’s bright and full, light unhindered and beauty shining for all to see, but sometimes it is thin and dark and swallowed whole by the abyss.
And those days are hard for the people whose souls are like moons. Because when the darkness has swallowed you whole, what light is left to guide you?
Of course, just as the moon passes through its phases, so too does the light emerge once more from the darkness in a never-ending cycle. But unlike the people whose souls are like suns, the moon people must accept that hardship, struggle, and fear are going to cycle in and out of their lives, ebbing and flowing like ocean tides.
And they must accept, as hard as it is, that there will be winter nights that are so much longer than summer nights–nights when the darkness lingers until it is nearly unbearable.
But every night passes. Every new moon bears new life. The full moon always comes back again.
It’s hard. But it’s the way the world is.
And just because the lights are different, just because one may not be as warm or as strong as the other, doesn’t mean one is worth more.
Because I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t stand to wake up without a sun in the sky.
And a night without a moon would be excruciating.
May your light be ever cherished.