From the Moon and Stars

Dear Dark Night, 

You don’t give yourself the credit you deserve. Sunshine, for some reason, equates to happiness (they call it “sunniness”) in the world we live in. People crave light. People see themselves in the daylight. It reassures their insecure selves.

How powerful you must be, dark night, for you make me feel beautiful when I cannot see myself, by only whispering into my head what I look like to you. You make me feel like magic.

Dear Dark Night,

You’ve taught me to make sense of the mess I am to create the matchless constellations that fascinate people so. 

Dear Dark Night,

Thank you for teaching me that sometimes it’s okay not to shine. And that never should the sun’s shining make me feel unimportant or irrelevant. I have to come back graceful, brighter, and more divine and know that I’m worth everything when the sun isn’t.

Dear Dark Night, 

Thank you for knowing to summon the clouds for me to hide behind whenever I needed. And for convincing me I must come back each time, because I am needed.

Dear Dark Night,

Thank you for coaxing me out of my retreat every time my flickering threatened to die out. I’m so lucky I can be confident that our love means you would be dull in my absence. Your sky would be less well-lit. I couldn’t ever do that to you.

Dear Dark Night,

You’re always there when I am, and I am ever so grateful for that. Your constant presence in my life comforts when I feel lonely, for you ensure that I’m never really alone.

Dear Dark Night,

Never doubt that you’re beautiful. Exquisite. Truly denightful. Never feel like no one sees you. You are not an absence. You are not a substitute for the sunshine when it needs to rest. You are irreplaceable and capable of things I, and everyone else, can only depend on you for.

Dear Dark Night,

You are, after all, what makes the moon and stars worth looking at.

Love,

Your Moon and Stars.

Angel

There are ten million people in the city tonight
And one angel.
Touching souls,
Plotting promises of good days to come
Where screams once painted sleepless nights.
“Everything will be okay, honey.”

“I won’t ever recover from this.”
Broken shards of glass
Still shine in the light.
Still can be picked up and
United to reflect the colours of your dearest dreams.
Don’t give up.
You have to win.

“Okay, I want to.
But isn’t zero worth more than a minus thousand?”
Every life is a pile of good things and bad things, he says.
The good things don’t always soften the bad, 
But the bad things don’t spoil the good.
It isn’t a minus thousand.
It’s a hundred, and a minus five, and a seven, and a minus thirty.
Numbers are your friends.
Zero isn’t worth anything.

“I no longer believe that there exist good things.
I can’t think of any; there must not be any.”
If you stare at the sky long enough, he teaches,
You begin to see the stars.

“I see them now,” I realize, in awe.
He smiles at me until my smile is no longer under my own control.
The angel that lit up my life.

Love,
Ta-treyi.
8/1/17