I watched the sky

from morning to afternoon,

from afternoon to evening.

Each hour painted a different story.

Soft blues, golden light,

blushing pinks, and quiet darkness.

The universe never spoke,

yet somehow it whispered,

“Be present.”

The sky healed me

without asking for anything.

It simply existed,

and somehow,

that was enough.

Sometimes I think

I am like the sky.

The world sees different colors,

different personalities,

different phases of me.

But beyond everything they see

lives a universe

filled with mysteries, dreams,

and a darkness

that only I understand.

Then I looked at the moon.

People dream of becoming stars.

There are millions of them,

beautiful and bright.

Yet few wish

to become the moon.

The moon carries the night.

It comforts the lonely,

guides the lost,

and brightens days

that once felt empty.

Looking at the sky,

I realized something.

Perfection is a story

that often ends in sadness.

The moon is not perfect.

Its face is marked with scars,

its light changes,

and sometimes

only a small part of it can be seen.

Yet every night,

the world still looks up

and calls it beautiful.

Perhaps beauty

was never about perfection.

Perhaps it is about

choosing to shine

despite every scar.

So if you are the moon,

thank you.

You remind me

that even imperfect souls

can become

the brightest light

in someone’s darkest night.

And every evening,

I feel blessed,

because no matter how the sky changes,

The moon always finds its way back