Beautiful Moon, don't cry

The crescent gibbous Moon cries with relief at night, 
As she feels, deeply in her craters, the consummation 
Of her prophecy; as she feels the waxing brighter light,
Cleansing the Universe's blur, through deific purification. 

Completely insanely absorbed by blazing, cathartic hope,
She seeks for guidance among the stars, while horoscopes
Are being sunk in the depths of light-scattered seas by her
- the only astral tides she continues to love being a voyeur.

Despite the purification wave, the Moon has a dark secret
Remarkably, nicely and deeply hidden in her taciturn core
- what she doesn't know is that even the silent and deepest
Seashells, during a storm, can be brought by a wave to shore.

As the storm subsides, and the truth emerges from the deep,
Moon embraces her shadow, no longer afraid to be eclipsed. 
Still, she shines with a newfound light, both dark and bright,
And dances, in the sky, whole in this purgatory cosmic night.