...th Moon,

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The moon too burns in silent pain,

Beneath the fierce and golden flame.

All day it hides, unseen, apart,

Carrying fire within its heart.

It gathers sunlight’s blazing glow,

In quiet wounds no eyes may know.

Then when the world is tired and still,

It climbs above the sleeping hill.

No longer fierce, no longer bright,

It turns its pain to silver light.

And softly pours on earth below,

A cooling, tender, peaceful glow.

What burned by day, by night it heals,

In moonlit hush the darkness feels.

A lesson whispered from above—

Even pain can become love.

The moon drinks fire from the sun by day,

Yet shines with grace in the quiet gray.

It borrows light from the blazing sky,

Then paints soft dreams as the night drifts by.

Though born of flames it does not burn,

But cools the earth at its gentle turn.

A silver lamp in the heavens high,

A soothing gaze in the darkened sky.

The sun may dazzle, fierce and bright,

But the moon transforms that flame to light.

It teaches softly, calm and bright—

That warmth can bloom as peace at night.

From borrowed blaze to tender gleam,

The moon becomes the poet’s dream.

A glowing proof for all to see:

Even fire can become serenity.

_keyur_everthing