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To Love My Mystery

I've met many a fool, said the moon, who loved me full. It's another thing to love my mystery. I'm as present in my waxes and wanes as when I light up the whole sky. And even when the sky appears dark, no trace of me in the waters, I never disappear from myself. I met a stargazer once who knew that. He never asked after the peculiarity of my phases. And when I disappeared from sight, as I often had to, He set a cup on his porch and caught the starlight that belonged to everyone, the same that is mine. Sometimes, when I was thirsty, I asked him for a drink, if only to know what it was to drink from myself, refracted star water and all. (Aimee Hansen)

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