S. A. Grove

May I not be a waning moon, but one ever waxing,
according to the nearness of my heart to Yours;
may this be an echo of my closeness to Your heart,
a swelling moon reflecting the beauty of Your name
—and all that beauty entails.

May this tale not usher darkness into a dark world,
but be instead the Sun’s dead compatriot,
brightening the night with the reflection of Your light.
The moon alone illuminates no shadow
—brings no healing.
But is instead a tool to be used to bring light into the dark.

Though devils walk the earth,
let me not beautify the hideous
and glorify the base.
But instead show reality in all its facets
and thereby show where beauty resides.

Fill the hollow formed in our bellies
as we behold beauty void.
Be the substance that makes beauty shine;
be the word that heals the reflected.

At this my charge is doubled:
may neither this nor I, in fervor, fear, or foolishness,
be the moon which rides the sky eclipsing
Sun from Earth and Earth from Sun,
but be instead the sphere
which holds light in memory
during the hours of darkness.