The Lonely Moon

I want to be the moon in the endless abyss of space-
I eulogise the lingering light
encapsulating the night sky,
dominating the darkness

It's meant to be there

"It's beautiful" she whispers,
"Take a photo!" he asks,
such a simple ball of rock
not acknowledged for its purpose
of calming the tides
and enlightening our streets.
 But praised for its looks
amongst the focus that drowns it out
yet enhances it's elegance.

 We ought to prefer the reverse -
a human feeling of completing the game
dominating the lonely earth
that we put on a pedestal
and endure to conquer.

But what if my controller is cheap?
What if I can't reach the final level
and acquire a nobel peace prize
and change the world
and fix my mistakes
and repeat my apologies
losing control of the tides.

What if I just exist?
Exist amongst the miraculous people
exist amongst the stars around me
that surround every aspect of my life
yet I am just the lonely moon.

I don't want love for greatness
I want love easily
easily enough to have a purpose
which may not have been the intent for me
so notice me not for what you need me for,
 but for how the paintbrush blends me in.

Let me be the moon you dismiss when you look up
unless the stars are bright and complimenting me
unless I am complete
unless you have a perfect camera.
I'm supposed to give light
Change the darkness
But that isn't appreciated, is it?
It's how I compliment the stars
and the night sky.
But what if I don't mind that?