Looking up at the sky at night.
Thinking about nothing and everything.
I think about the reflection of the moon on the water.
Masqeurading as the moon itself.
I think of how people must often masquerade as this moon.
Leaving there real self on a dusty shelf.
I think about the stars.
So many in one place, some brighter than others.
People are like this, some shining more.
Like children without mothers.
I think about the darkness of the backround.
Many people have this backround.
You can tell though.
They hide it by not making a sound.
