Chasing

Once I thought I’d catch the moon, hold it close like a secret I’d never lose. Tried to map the shadows, trace the light between the cracks. But the sky just kept on moving, and the night got colder, slower. Sometimes I felt like running, but I stayed and waited for something to show. Maybe it’s not about holding on, maybe it’s about learning how to let go. I’m still here, still trying to follow, even when the path feels hollow. The moon keeps shifting in the dark, never quite the same, but always sparks a fire inside that won’t die out — a quiet pull, a gentle shout. If you’re out there, chasing something too, know I’m somewhere beneath this view. Not perfect, not sure where I’ll land, but still reaching, still taking a stand.