12.17.20 // the moon hangs heavy

The moon hangs heavy.
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Heavy like our hearts.
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The hearts of the weary, the romantics, and the free.
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The shroud around the moon as delicate as lace and as soft as fresh snow.
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Occasionally when the clouds surround its fullness, a dark rainbow forms. All of the colors glimmer but with a dark hue of saturation.
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The heavy hearts are cast from the shadows and into the light of sepia stained clouds formed far from the deep ring of hues.
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Pulling us out of the night even as the darkness is deep with thickness.
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In the fullness of the low hanging moon, the weight it holds feels tangible. It feels like I could reach up and grab it off my shoulders and play with it in my hands. Its weight is both crippling in heaviness and emerging in its levity.
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The moon, she pushes and pulls our hearts just as she does the ocean waves. We learn from the tides which dance so beautifully in her light or in her absence.
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Learning to balance the weight, the push and pulls, and the ever wondering lust for the bright and low hanging light in the darkness.