Only the moon listens to my story silently, embracing me with soft, calming light yet sometimes cold. Ever present, seen or not. Not caring for my sometimes
outspoken suffering as they know it is not truly meant for them. Ever present to listen to my loud mind. There through turbulence as much as for a calm breeze
of my venting thoughts. The lone entity with a right to my secrets, even though I know they can't truly care.

Far above as an all seeing eye. Not bothered by our problems. Lifting the sea, granting the land water and a deadly mirror of the sky. Say that they knew of what
they could and had brought upon the life below. They do not care for the catastrophe happening beneath them, it is not the evil choice of them but a definite
aftermath of their existence, one that can't be changed.

How can an entity, with such lacking care as to not ask for forgiveness for what they've brought, be so quickly pardoned by the very same existence whose life
was crushed by them? We care as much for their interferens as they do. We blame them as much as they blame themselves. By this script they have been
referred to as an entity, an entity caring as much as blamed. Misleading by the choice of words, this entity are still only the moon.

The moon, our moon, is...