Luna

The suns tends to stare at me,
Waiting for me to burn,
The unpleasant beams of eagerness are
Waiting for me.
It knows that I don't thrive in it.
Knows that the blinding light makes me run,
Instead the moon is what calls me,
The rays of the sun making it shine,
Yet, the moon always seems to gravitate 
Like a static shock awakening me.
My soul awaits the day I can go to her.
Longingly, I stare at her whenever she makes an appearance,
For the moon is an ethereal being,
Known for controlling when rituals can occur,
It stems deeply in witchery,
Yet, she waits for me patiently,
Understanding my caution in such acts,
But knows that one day I will be free
To worship her for who she is,
Selene, Luna, Luan are a few of her various names,
Many which embrace that she is what 
Helps us to survive on Gaia,
That she's a tether for us humans,
The moon speaks to me 
Her illuminating glow is what helps me be grounded,
Despite her many forms and sizes,
Her beauty ratifies my identity,
Making my heart swallow thoughts of her whole.