Something about the Moon

There's something about the moon.  That mystery.  That magic.  The way it seems to hang from the sky so nonchalantly.  Not a care in the world.  It's not even in the world.  She's content to shine as she feels throughout the month.  Some days she'll only reveal a part of herself and she is totally fine with that.  She doesn't feel the need to conform to the world's standards.  She knows she'll be accepted no matter the circumstances.  The stars won't abandon her to the sun, even if she chooses not to show up one night.  She's content.  She isn't looking to find herself in someone else.  She's humble.  She doesn't mind receiving the warmth of the sun and accepts that he may ever be her only source of light.  She doesn't accept it as one without choice or self-determination.  Nor does she accept it begrudgingly.  She just trusts.  She doesn't fear a lack of acceptance, but rather is content to know that she will always be provided for.  She may be the sun's stepdaughter, though you wouldn't know from her words.  She doesn't mouth off to her companions about how he mistreats her, for after all he doesn't.  He actually loves her well and she is thankful for it.  Nor does she sit in silence for fear of being heard.  She knows exactly what she needs.  There's that glow, though silent, she speaks words long hidden but somehow understood through the generations.  If she smiling down on you, the least you can do is smile back.