Work Text:
He was bright, he was dazzling, he was in every way breath taking.
A beacon and people called him the sun, worshipping him.
Yet he was but a false idol, shiny but not made of gold.
He was not the sun; he was the moon.
He was bright and shiny, bathing everyone in a glow that wasn't his own. But he made it his.
He stood high and even in the darkest of nights you would search for him even when he wasn't there just because that was the kind of comfort he gave.
He inspired and moved many people simply by existing and reflecting all the positivity around him back.
He had a mysterious force to him that noone could describe even if they passed a thousand words along.
By all that was good and all that was life, people wanted him.
He was like the moon.
Gracious and beautiful and a light to your comfort and likes
but you could live without him.
He wasn't the Sun that provided the warmth and the heat to grow all the trees.
He wasn't the sun that kept the days clear and people healthy.
He wasn't the sun that everyone had to thank for being able to survive.
He was the moon.
He provided not what you needed to live but he provided what you needed to feel alive.
He provided not the warmth but the inspiration and beauty.
A light and a song in the wind of howling wolfs as they ask guidance.
A love song to someone or something so far out of reach but wanting to be pulled so close.
He was happiness and self indulgence even in the face of uncertainty.
And we were ever grateful.
And I was ever grateful