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About This Author
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☽ • ☾ • ☽ The moon was supposed to be sleeping. That’s what the stars said, anyway. They dimmed themselves politely, ready for rest — but she stayed up, wide-eyed and wild, painting silver streaks across the dark. She hummed a tune too bright for dreaming, danced circles on the clouds, woke up the owls, the poets, the prayers — and whispered, “Rest is overrated, love. There’s beauty in the staying awake.” So I sat beside her, a little undone, a little alight. We talked about wanting more — about all the things we keep tucked under daylight. And when morning finally came, she didn’t hide — she just softened. Because even rebels need rest, and even light needs shade to glow. ☽ • ☾ • ☽ |
