Is that moon new?... It is not the same as always, how it changes its position it deceives us, it makes us believe that it renews itself, that it grows and shines, nothing is real in it, everything is relative like life, the truth or love.
She moves the tides... or rocks the waves, in reality it is she or is it the earth that wants to pour a little water on its arid soil from the much that is left over, she loves her satellite fidelity, but the moon is elusive at times in others full full for lovers, waning so that the wolves howl and poets write or growing to flourish.
Sometimes there is only his half, for the doubtful, the anxious, neither yes nor no... there is a cautious moon.
Occasionally it eclipses itself and then we miss it, we adore it, although we never stop to see its splendor and its golden color, when it hides it disturbs us that it does not appear again and we look wanting to bring it.
She inspires songs, she whispers to us every night that she is there and with her presence we know that the sun will rise, we trust her, she knows many of our secrets, a witness to furtive lovers, loneliness, sadness and vibrant celebrations.
Luna for the Romans, Selene for the Greeks, you will always be unknown to humans, even though we have walked on you and we call you the sea of tranquility, you print a special ecstasy when contemplating you...some even dare to ask you for advice...without knowing that you are a reflection.
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