THE FEAR OF BEING LOVED

Somewhere, the blues hide their depth,

Waiting for night to crest and dim the light.

As if by tide, the moon was never scripting love;

Yet it drew the deep with its elegance.

Golden rays struck the sea through the dawn’s shower.

It felt like a blossom yet to flower.

Then it realized — the tides refused to wait for hours,

The way sunflowers turn toward a greater power.

The moon had drawn the tide for countless nights,

Yet never knew its name.

It was the dawn, scattering gold across the waves,

showed, the difference between longing

And being loved.

How much ever beautiful the moon was ,Yet the tide had the fear of being loved by the moon, after realising it could never be the part of its life.

~YUNA AEON~