The moon

They say she's a star, they say she's their sun they revolve around her, she fills up the dark sky. Though to me she's the moon. When it's dark she lighten my path. When I am down like the tides she lifts me up. Upon the darkness of the night she shines brighter then any star. Although she is no saint, she has many bumps, and bruises. Many craters, and holes that run deep. Although she is not perfection, perfection isn't what I seek. I seek a light that won't leave me in darkness. I seek someone who won't judge my holes, and broken pieces. For the moon won't judge, the moon will listen when you cry out.

Though it is day, and my moon hasn't been found, nor has my moon found me. Though I look to the future where I may meet my moon, and where my moon meets me.