Moonflower

Her beauty was a lost relict with the sunrise, having left like an orizuru into the death of the palpable night.

She was a child of the dying summer.

Ashen like the colours of a lotus, she carried the same hope and standards;

don’t fall behind just because it’s dark,

there will always be an opportunity to rise. After all, the Moon keeps rising every night even though her audience consists solely of stars.

There’s a solace for humans to know that every night is followed by morning dew.

But when moonflowers open their blossoms, shine like a tapestry with pinholes of light, it becomes clear why artists paint the night in colour.

To show us: darker the night, the deeper the universe.

You believe the sky is familiar to you, aurora borealis are hasty, rainbows a glimpse into the future.

But have you ever glimpsed further into the past’s heart? Where Andromeda is a twirling star storm, knowing it’s always closer than it looks like;

where Venus is a beacon upon ocean surfaces.

She has been here forever and never, has seen these things a thousand times before,

but the magic of night never fails to light her up.