The night sky is blacked by city lights where the stars are few and far between, drowned by the false iridescence reflecting in distances we don't understand. The winter air is cold and crisp. No snow, but the quite of the streets reminds me of the loneliness winter captures. I walked alone and stood at the edge of the old brick building, leaning as though I held the red stone in place. I pulled on my smoke, looking up; I noticed the moon, as I often do. Tonight was different; I felt a conversation ensuing. I felt so small. Not insignificant, but rather, humbled by the tale told by a lunar goddess. I am a piece of the whole vastness encompassed by the Universe and still a whole that I can capture. I am. The moon had told me so, a beautiful moon it was.