I wish to live as gently as the moon among the clouds,
and as freely as the clouds drifting through the moonlight.
Tonight, on my way home from church,
the moon wasn’t just beautiful — it felt quietly sorrowful.
A full moon, wrapped in soft grey clouds,
its light was not bright, but tender and pure.
A quiet part of my began to drift and soak in that stillness.
And then, the same gentle clouds that had shaped such peace
moved swiftly, almost ruthlessly,
and swallowed the fragile moon whole.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
All sounds, all thoughts, faded away.
Then the moonlight returned, slipping through the clouds again,
as if nothing had ever happened —
softly touching the world with its calm light.
Tonight, the moon was not just a glow in the sky.
It was a silent prayer,
a reminder that even sorrow can be beautiful beneath its light.
glorialeeart.blog 
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