The way a sky shows stars is such an experience to itself. The moon hangs focal, not quite a star bu its own but nonetheless a reflection of one of Earth’s most significant stars, the Sun. It’s an unrecognized concept of how the moon is such a standing point of the world, the way it’s a different type of “second sun.” A sun that has been assigned a more mysterious, deeper kind of “personality.” As mystic as associations say, there are thousands of “extroverted” flicks of dust shimmering like sand behind our moon.

She is a moonlit rose, hanging above a lake, mountains behind her. The moon hangs above her, supplying a soft, loving light to her and everything she sees. She is beauty itself and her presence makes any scene so incredibly more peaceful and welcoming.

Sie ist eine Katze. Her eyes entrancing, wide and bright, leave my heart dancing, her now being the source of my light. If her hands needed another pair to hold, I’d drop everything of mine, but my brain I’m being told, our fingers will/would never intertwine. So what am I to do? It’s eating me alive. It doesn’t seem very true, to say any of us will thrive. “Sie ist eine Katze.”