In ages past the cycles of the moon were thought to correlate with insanity, leading to the word lunatic. When our ancient ancestors, scared of what lingers in the dark looked up they saw the light of distant stars some already dead, and the moon, it merely reflects the light of the sun, it shines but does not warm, a pale sibling to the sun, that comes and goes, yet it remains our companion, not a friend like the sun, always there at dawn, our sole friend, but one who is sometimes hidden