I am not subtle.
Where the sea whispers and the moon watches, I arrive in a blaze of certainty. My light crosses space for eight long minutes before it reaches the turning world, and when it does, darkness retreats without argument.
I wake things.
Seeds stir when my warmth reaches the soil. Leaves turn their green faces toward me, quietly drinking the light I spill across the fields. Birds test the morning air. Even the seaβrestless creature that she isβglitters when I touch her.
And the moon.
She does not shine on her own, though many believe she does. Her beauty is borrowed from me, carried carefully across the dark and returned to the world as silver.
I do not mind.
Light was never meant to be kept.
Most days, we are apart. The turning of the earth places her on the far side of the sky while I cross the blue above forests and cities and open water. She walks the night while I guide the day. It is a quiet arrangement we have kept for ages beyond counting.
But sometimes our paths cross.
The earth moves between us, and for a moment, the world falls into a strange twilight. Birds grow confused. The wind seems to pause. People lift their faces to the sky as my brilliance softens into a dark ring of fire.
It is not a loss.
It is simply the moon coming closer than usual, placing herself gently between me and the world. For a brief moment, we share the same line through space, two old companions acknowledging one another.
Her shadow brushes the earth.
And I see her clearly thenβher quiet face, her patient orbit, the long craters written across her skin like memories. She does not speak, but she does not need to. The sea below rises toward her, answering the pull she cannot help but give.
Then the world turns again.
She slips back into the dark where she belongs, and I return to my bright work of warming oceans and fields. The twilight passes. Birds resume their songs. Leaves drink once more from the endless river of light.
We rarely meet.
But we are never truly separate.
Every night she carries a small piece of me into the darkness, and every day the sea remembers her gentle pull.
Three bodies moving through the same quiet universeβ
one blazing,
one watching,
one forever dancing in between.
