Sun and Moon and Moon and Sun
I was thinking to text you that you were the moon to my sun.
But then the thought swelled and reversed.
Surely you are the bright sun, and I am the simple reflective moon.
You warm the whole earth by day, and I trickle your light into the night.
You make the plants grow strong and green, and I pull the dark tides.
Certainly this must be the way between you and me.
Or…then again…maybe perhaps…
You are, in fact, the fixed solid rock, and I am the swirling ball of fuss and fume.
You light the path singularly in the pitch with cast offs from my dark, spinning slumber.
You pull the oceans and wombs into submission while I burn crops to dust.
This is undoubtedly the way it goes between you and me.
Fully caught up considering the dialectics, I find the truth of us somewhere in between.
For as fixed and solid as you appear, my presence gifts you kinesis.
And while darkness may capture my mood, you thrive on lending me your light day or night.
I am your gravity and your warmth. You are my fulcrum and my nourishment.
In full truth, we are the affair found between the two colossal masses.
Bound, eternal, and complete.
