He is the only one who notices me. I am the only who notices him. One lonely moon with empty craters and darkness surrounding him. One who is always around or never around. One beautiful moon here to comfort me. From my position, I can see him, but does he really see me?
       

His power is secret. He sends inviting flashes to my friends. He spins around and falls down and grabs the earth between his invisible hands and fills the sky with ferocious envy and never abandons his intentions. This is how he continues.
       

If one lost sight of his motive for living, he’d crash to the ground like a knocked over vase, with his core breaking to a million pieces. Continue, continue, continue he says when I fall. He repairs.
       

When I am too cracked and too mangled to continue continuing, when I am a minuscule piece against the sky of stars, then I turn to the stars. When there is nothing left to pull from the heart. One who steals glances all night. One who remains and does not forget to remain. One whose only excuse is to try and try.