The Moon

A sliver of a crescent

The rest a shadow of the whole

Startling; Strking

So little reflected

And yet...

Truly, mesmerisingly, beautiful

Nestled across the bottom of the moon

This wonderful faint outline of the whole disk

And as I think about this now

Is this a metaphor for me? For us?

So little of me reflected

Just the emergent, merest part

And yet...

What a beautiful thing to behold

All that potential

All that is still to be revealed

But none of this detracts from

Or undermines the beauty of the crescent

Present: here and now

No disappointment that more is not showing

Just a genuine enjoyment of that which is visible

This very instant

Is this a picture of how you see me?

Of how you love me?

Please let it be so.