the inconstant moon of my life

O swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.  

i will swear by the moon though it is inconstant.

it is my lifelong companion now and means so much to me.

i watch it as it seems to watch me.

as God does not answer me, neither does my moon.

my "inconstant moon" is one that is forever a fixture in my heart and mind.

waiting for it to be full, i worry about cloud cover and yet,

and yet, the clouds provide such a sight if they move with the wild abandon of a fearless night.

but my nights are both welcomed and feared for dreams or lack of rest.

the double-edged sword of getting the sleep i need against the dreams that might come

versus the lack of rest i need to hold the demons of insomnia at bay.

i love the moon.  i hate what it reminds me of.

but it is the only thing in my life that allows me to speak about him.

it is the only thing in my life that offers no advice, only keeps vigil with me for the countdown of my life.

i need him, still.

i wish he were here, still.

i miss him, still.

i always will, i think.

i was asked when would i take off my rings, allow the world to see me as a single woman.

i said, "but i am not single in my heart.  rings off, rings on, my heart is taken,

so i might as well keep the wall up that the rings represent until such time as he leaves me from there, too."

the way i feel at this time, it would hurt me more to force myself to live and think of myself

as a single woman, than to let my memories of him haunt me as they do.

so the moon and i continue our vigil over each other.

and when i am very old and frail,

i will carefully, slowly, ease my weariness and aches outside each night of the full moon

so i can gaze upwards and pine for,

speak to,

weep for what i cannot ever have again in this life.

and in my elderly befuddled mind,

i will call out to him and hope my beautiful, fierce Dragon,

who is curled up on the dark side of the moon,

will peer around its cold, silver-whiteness to gaze back down at me.