The melody of the moon seemed to play so softly in the night like it’s trying to tell me something. I know that’s not true, though. It’s just a moon after all. I just can’t help but feel a connection towards it. My lonely walks at the base of my porch steps were spent talking on the phone while gazing at the luminosity in the sky. The usual light breeze would tickle my skin even through the light hoodie I always adorned and it would play with my hair, which was freshly cut about a week ago. The grass would sway like a metronome to the beat that the rays of the moon would be playing out. Just barely there, like a whisper in the wind.

The moon would start out as new. Just discovering the world and all the emotions it brings. Like a curious shadow, it would observe in absolute silence. Only leaving a small trace of its existence. The melody would be playing in my ears. Not distinct, but definitely there all the same. My eyes would follow its small tracks with interest, thinking about its small ring of existence. To me, it feels like a ring of promise. A promise to come back again.

The first crescent that would light up the sky is like a wave hello. So I would wave back, greeting it with a smile on my face. Any further conversation with the moon is lost in the trees, leaving us to our own devices. The rest of the world would greet the moon in its new awakening as I would sit back and watch. The moon would greet the others back, reaching out with its shining hands and play with the grass. The world would suddenly come alive as the grass plays with the wind. The wind would then play with the clouds and the clouds would hug the moon in their own greeting. The world would listen as the moon would sing its melody. As the moon sets, it would send out its last rays to the world. Promising to come back another day.

As the moon rises with only half of its heart showing, we would know that it was looking for its other half. The one that made it whole. The melody would play, but this time, it would be calling out rather than just playing for entertainment. It would search the earth with its shining hands, once used to play with the grass when it was younger. The clouds would look in the sky, roaming the dark expanse, asking all the stars before moving on in their search. I would look too from my little perch on the porch. I would fill in the gaps that the clouds would pass over and look among the grass to see if I could find it hiding there. But then we would give up our search. My post would be abandoned and the clouds would slow, turning their pace into a leisure one. The stars would disappear once they realized that they could do nothing more to help in the search and the grass would stop too. The moon would give one more halfhearted look before it too disappeared. Promising to come back another day to continue the search.

When the moon would greet us next, we would see that it is getting better. It is starting to find its other half. Almost, but not quite. Realizing that the moon was faring well in its search, the world left it alone. The grass would settle down, no longer playing with the wind and the wind would no longer play with the clouds. It feels like the whole world is waiting in anticipation for the moon to finally find its other half. But we have to wait. The world would listen as the moon would once again play its melody. Letting us know that everything will be alright. I would sit in my seat on the porch again. This time not searching, but observing. When the moon would set, it too would not search, but it would send out a promise of returning.

Rising with its other half shining proudly beside it, the moon would dominate the sky and show off its other half. Happy with how the search turned out, the moon would again reach out with its shining hands to play the grass. The grass would play with the wind and the wind would play with the clouds. The clouds would then send their congratulations by caressing the moon once again. As I sit, I too would send my happiness. The moons full glory would be stored in my memory as I too would join the cycle of happiness, reaching out with my hand to hold the moons shining hands. Both halves would now join in the melody. Singing it stronger than ever before. When the moon would set, it would send out a promise to come back another day.

The moon would rise again, almost weary looking. Not quite whole but not quite alone again. It was slowly losing its other half. Its other half that it needs desperately to be whole. The world would watch as the moon would say its final goodbyes to its other half. Just lying still, ready to offer the moon support when the time came. From my little perch on the porch, I would send my last goodbyes to the moons other half. Watching as the clouds moved in ever so slowly to give it a final hug. There was no melody this time as the moon turns its full attention on its other half. The moon and its waning half would set, sadly sending out another promise to be back.

As the moon rises by itself, the world would greet it by comforting it the best they could. The grass would sway out a beat to a now lost melody that the moon used to sing. The wind would fly by as if trying to recreate the melody the moon once sang. The clouds would hug the moon, comforting it as they watched the world try and sing that once happy melody. From my reclined position on the porch, I would help out too as I hum along to the melody. As the world sings throughout the night, the moon would finally join in, recreating that melody perfectly. As it sets, still singing that wonderful melody, it promises to come back again.

When the last crescent lights the sky, the world prepares for their last goodbye. The melody is now sung in the saddest tune yet. Still there, but slightly different. As if the mood of the world can change the melody at their whim. I would leave my little perch on the porch to go pace that bottom step, humming along to the sad melody ringing throughout the air. As the moon sets for the last time, the world sends out a promise. A promise to greet it again when it is reborn.