It is hard to put into words, my adoration for nighttime, for my beloved moon. When I try to explain it I am met with confusion or ridicule. They don't understand how I could love the moon (a barren rock in the middle of space) so much. And I don't understand how they could fail to see the moon's beauty, her gentle light, a sphere of hope in the dark of night. For is simple.

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The moon has been there when no one else was. Late at night, I can wander outside, tea in hand and lament my problems to her. She dose not judge me, dose not offer her unwanted insight or poor advice. She listens, she listens better then any human ever could. Many a secret have I spilled to her. Insecurities, and dreams, she is the best secret keeper of them all. Never will I have to worry about her repeating or miss repeating them to a judgmental crowd. The moon is always there, even if she wanes, even if I can't see her, and yes even if she is eclipsed by the blinding sun. But I always know she is there, and I can talk to her, even when I can't see her. Oh, and it doesn't hurt that she's beautiful. Whether she's delicately gracing the scars as a slither of white, or illuminating our homes in a golden burst. Nothing is as relaxing as staring at her beauty, letting go of my problems and putting our little world in her perspective. But the best part of the moon, is we are all under her. Everyone you've ever loved, everyone you miss at 3AM is still under her watchful case. Look up and you might just feel more connected to them. Even those that our passed, are still somehow under the moon. (Matter is never destroyed after all.) And somewhere, someone is probably looking at it the same time as you! The moon makes sure that we are never truly alone.

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So now you know. Now you know why, when someone asks me why I love the moon, I stare blankly. I ask on earth could I not?

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